Growing Up Is Not An Absence Of Dreaming
by Melmm
Summary: AU. The Crimebusters are kids, playing at being superheroes. Eventual OT3 focus with sides of Jon/Laurie, Dan/Laurie, Dan/OMC, Jon/Janey, Eddie/Sally, Nelly/Rolf, Bill/Byron, and Adrian/everything with a pulse.
1. Chapter 1

Author: Emmie (justapieceofme)  
Title: Growing Up Is Not An Absence Of Dreaming  
Fandom: Watchmen  
Pairing(s): Eventual Dan/Laurie/Walter, with Laurie/Jon, Dan/Leslie, Adrian/Dan, Adrian/Walter, Eddie/Sally, and Dan/OC along the way. Largely gen until later chapters.  
Rating: Hovering primarily around PG. One or two NC-17 chapters down the road, though.  
Continuity: AU, set in the 80s (I think. Heh.)  
Author's note: Written for the Watchmen kink meme, this prompt in particular. Fairly epic; will be 75 chapters if I can ever manage to finish the goddamned thing. Haven't posted on in ages; sorry if any of my formatting or HTML is wonky.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue, plzthx.

Summary: The Crimebusters are kids, playing at being superheroes.

"Bored," Laurie mutters, leg kicking idly, heel connecting with the leg of the chair she's sitting on with a slight _thunk_. Her mouth twists into a scowl as this gets no response. "Bored," she says again. _Thunk_. "Bored." _Thunk_. "Boooored." A slightly louder _thunk_, competing with the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. "Bo-"

"Laurie!" her mother finally snaps, looking up from the magazine she's perusing. _There_. Laurie almost smiles. Her mom might be annoyed, but at least she's paying attention, which is a step in the right direction. Sally might be a little self-absorbed, but she's a pretty good mom, and she can be particularly good at coming up with things to do on boring, rainy stuck-inside days like today. Usually she even gets just as caught up in whatever activity they decide on as her daughter does, once Laurie exasperates her into playing.

At the moment, though, she's staring at her, eyebrows high on her forehead, mouth set in a hard line, hand still paused halfway through turning a page, ready to go back to her magazine as soon as Laurie has fully absorbed the message that look sends. Laurie just shrugs and flips her hair back in a gesture years too old for her. "I'm bored," she explains innocently.

Sally sets the magazine down with a sigh. "Yes. I'd gathered."

Laurie looks back at her a little expectantly, pouting a bit. Were her father in the room, he would say she was being manipulative (something he accuses her of quite a bit, but that's all right, because she once used the word in front of Jon, and then had to explain what it meant, and it's not often that she gets to be smarter than Jon. She'd tried it on Adrian too, without as much luck, but Adrian knows just about everything, so it wasn't that disappointing.), and maybe she is, a little bit, but she doesn't imean/i to be. She just wants to play with her mom.

Sally rolls her eyes, but her expression softens some. "You're nine years old, Laurie," she says. "Can't you come up with some way of entertaining yourself?"

"Nope," Laurie says, shaking her head emphatically.

"Why don't you read a book?" Sally suggests with an encouraging smile. Laurie chews on her lip as she thinks about this, then lets it slip from between her teeth with a soft, wet _pop_ as she looks down at the floor.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'" Her mom's tone is dry, but Laurie can tell she's trying not to smile. "You could play dress-up."

_Hmm_. That has possibilities. "Dress-up's no fun alone," she says, as if it's just a thought that's occurred to her and she's not trying to get any particular response.

Sally is smiling now, as she flips the magazine closed and stands up. "All right, all right, I'm coming."

Laurie has a big trunk full of dress-up clothes, and Sally perches on the edge of the bed while she digs through them, debating if she'd rather be a princess, or a pirate, or... "Mom? What do you wanna be?"

There's no answer, and when she turns around, lips already forming another questioning, "Mom?" her mother is staring off into space, her expression soft and faraway. "Hey... Mom," she says, brow furrowing.

"Did I ever tell you about the game me and your uncle Hollis used to play?" Sally says, looking down at Laurie, though that faraway look doesn't really change.

"Nope," Laurie says, eagerly taking a seat on the bed beside her mother. She loves when Sally tells her about when she was a kid, with Uncles Hollis and Nelly and Rolf... Her mom was the only girl hanging out with a bunch of boys, just like her, which she likes. She doesn't talk about it much, though, and for some reason her dad never likes it when she does.

"Well..." she says, smiling slightly like she's remembering some wonderful moment, "when we were about your age, we used to play superheroes."

Laurie ponders this. "You mean like Batman?" Sally gives a short, surprised chuckle and a slightly questioning look. Laurie shrugs. "Dan really likes Batman." You can't hang out with a bunch of _boys _without learning a thing or two about superheroes, and Laurie has to admit she sort of likes the comics herself, even if she doesn't understand the devotion that drives Daniel to the newsstand every week to stock up on the slim books.

"Of course he does," Sally smiles. "Well...yes, sort of like Batman. Wait a moment, I'll be right back." She hurries out of the room, and Laurie sits on the bed, wondering what this is about. When she returns, she's holding a small bundle of yellow fabric.

"Look," she says, holding it up. The gauzy material cascades downward, shaping itself into a sort of dress. "This was my superhero costume. My mother made it for me." Laurie cocks her head and looks at the outfit. It doesn't look like much of a costume. There's not much to it. No armor like Batman, and it wouldn't even cover all over like Spider-Man's suit. "Would you like to try it on?"

Laurie shrugs and takes the costume, which her mother holds out almost reverently. She ducks into the closet to change, at the age where she's starting to care whether her mother watches her do so. It's slightly loose, but not too bad. She comes out and looks in the mirror.

"Well?" says Sally. "What do you think?" Laurie stares at her reflection a little skeptically. She's not too sure about it. It's too girly for a hero. It's one thing to be a princess and wear a big poofy gown, but superheroes shouldn't go around in little yellow dresses. It doesn't seem right.

She doesn't want to upset her mother, though, so she says, "It's nice," tries to make it sound sincere.

"Would you like to play?"

Laurie shrugs. "What do we do?"

"Well...say..." Sally tries to think of some of the games they played when they were younger. She and Hollis had kept up the vigilante stuff well into their teens, and by then it got quite a bit more violent, but when they were Laurie's age... "Say an evil villain has tied me to the train tracks, and you have to save me before the train comes," she says, stretching out on the bed.

"I'll save you!" Laurie cries, her face splitting into a grin as she runs over to the bed. They play like that for awhile, and it's sort of fun, but she can't quite get into it. She just feels so _silly _in the costume, 'rescuing' her mother who, she's pretty sure, has never needed rescuing from anything. Superheroes might have been fine for her mom and Uncle Hollis, she decides, but she'd rather be a princess. Or a pirate.

Finally she says she thinks she'll read a book after all, and Sally smiles at her. "All right. But you keep the costume, okay? Maybe you and Dan can play some time." Laurie nods, even though she's pretty sure that's not going to happen. She folds the costume carefully, because it's clear that it's important to her mother, and places it in the back of the closet.

Later that night, she overhears her dad complaining. "--give her that thing for? I thought that silly game died out when you finally grew out of it." Her mother's response is muffled, and she can't make it out.

That night in bed, before she falls asleep, Laurie thinks about the costume in her closet, and the name her mother told her she could use if she wanted -- Silk Spectre. It's a silly name and a silly outfit, but the thought of rescuing people is sort of fun, she thinks before drifting off.


	2. Chapter 2

It's stopped raining by the next day, but the ground is still muddy and Laurie slips a few times on her way out to the woods to meet Daniel. It's not really woods, just a little area with some trees and dirt, but they call it that because it's the closest thing they've got, and if she's learned anything from books and television it's that all kids should have woods to play in. By the time she gets to the treehouse, the knees of her jeans are damp and dirty, but she doesn't care. It's not really a treehouse, either, more like a lopsided shack half-propped up _against_ a tree rather than _in_ one, but Dan says that still counts, and he built it himself (with some help from Laurie and Jon, while Adrian looked on, most of his 'help' consisting of getting in the way) so if he says so, she's willing to go along with it.

Dan's already inside, a stack of comic books sitting beside him and one in his hand. He barely looks up from the book when Laurie enters, mumbling a greeting. She sighs and flops down onto one of the crates that serve as chairs, picking up the book on top of the stack. Stuck inside all day yesterday and all Dan wants to do is read comics. She flips through the _Batman_ book halfheartedly, thinking maybe if she lets him read for awhile she can get him to actually go play soon. For awhile there's nothing but the sound of turning pages. Soon enough, Laurie is engrossed in the story despite herself, and it takes her a moment to look up when Dan asks, "Wanna trade?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." She takes the proffered book, handing over the one she's holding. This one's the latest _X-Men_, which is more her thing anyway. The stories are more exciting, and Rogue and Storm are just _cool_.

"Batman is so cool," Daniel says, nearly echoing her thought. She glances up to see his only a few pages into his book, whereas she's nearly halfway through hers. He's a faster reader (they'd borrowed Jon's prized pocketwatch once to check), but he takes his time, stopping to admire the intricacies of the artwork and make sure he's taken in every last detail of each page before moving on to the next, while she just powers through, devouring the text, appreciating the pictures but not really lingering over them.

"He's okay," she says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug as she turns her attention back to her comic, eyes skimming quickly over the page.

"Okay? Laurie, Batman is _awesome_." He looks up at her, eyes shining. She smiles, even as she's rolling her eyes. It's not the first time she's heard such a speech from Dan. He's such a _nerd_, but he's her best friend, so she listens to his rambling again. "Come on, he builds cool gadgets and saves people and drives the _Batmobile_. Dan pauses, then says a little wistfully, "I wanna be Batman."

"You are, for Halloween," she reminds him.

"No, I mean for _real_. I wanna rescue people and hang out in the Batcave and --"

Something about his babbling reminds her of yesterday and she says, mostly in an effort to cut him off before he can _really_ get on a roll, "You know, my mom used to play superheroes."

"And hang out with Robin and -- huh? Really?" Dan can't see Laurie's mom being a superhero, not even for pretend. She's so ladylike. He can't imagine her ever punching a bad guy or prowling around in dirty alleyways, looking for clues.

"Mhmm," Laurie says, idly sucking on a bit of her hair. "With Hollis."

Daniel perks up at this. He's known Hollis pretty much his whole life, him being such good friends with Laurie's mom, but they had really connected when Hollis and some other policemen had come to give a talk in their class. Ever since then Dan's pretty much idolized the guy. Laurie thinks maybe it's because his own dad's not around too much, and something about Hollis just screams _dad_. It's a little surprising that he never had kids of his own, actually. He treats them all like his kids, though, Dan especially.

"Come on," Dan says, tossing down his comic. "Let's go play."

_Finally_. "What do you want to play?" she asks, her book joining his on the slightly haphazard stack.

He looks at her like she's lost her mind. "Superheroes, of course. I'll be Batman and you can be --"

"Uh-uh," she cuts him off. "You have to make up your own hero. I'm the Silk Spectre," she says almost proudly. It's still sort of a silly name, but it was her mom's, and she feels like if she's going to be a hero, she ought to carry it on.

"Oh. Um, okay, I'll be...uh..." A dozen names flash through his mind, all of them already existing in his favorite comics. "I'll think of a name later. I'll just be this cool guy that invents stuff and saves people."

Laurie raises an eyebrow. "That sounds a lot like Batman."

"Nuh-uh. It's completely different. Really. And you can be my partner and uh...you're stuck in a burning bulding and I have to save you." He nods decisively, glad to at least have an idea for the game, even if he can't come up with a name that's not taken.

Laurie doesn't have any better ideas, so she scrambles up the sturdiest-looking of the nearby trees. Silk Spectre looks down and cries, "Help me, help me!"

She lets Dan save her from the burning building, then an imaginary mugger, then an evil villain who is slowly lowering her toward a vat of deadly acid (that one is her idea and she's pretty proud of it; certainly it's better than any of Dan's) before she gets tired of this game.

"How come I have to be the one that always gets rescued?" she complains from the tree stump she has been tied to by the latest villain while he warms up his Destructo-Ray.

"Well...um..." Dan tries to think of an answer that's not 'Because you're a girl.' He knows Laurie well enough to know _she's_ not above punching bad guys, or even best friends who aren't careful what they say.

"I'm tired of getting saved," she says, sparing him. She shakes off her imaginary bonds and stands up. "And I can't take Daniel the superhero seriously. You need a real name. Anyway, I should probably get home."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, me too," Dan says, although it's not even starting to get dark yet.

"See you in school tomorrow," Laurie says, smiling to show she's not really upset, and leaves him standing there, already trying to think up some new villains to top hers next time they play.


	3. Chapter 3

Dan walks slowly, feet scuffing on the sidewalk. He doesn't really want to go home, but he doesn;t have much else to do with Laurie gone. His comics are tucked away in his battered backpack, the stories there seeming to pale compared with the excitement of being a superhero himself. He turns over possible names in his head as his feet carry him automatically to Hollis' apartment.

"Danny!" Hollis says, pulling the door open. "Come on in."

"Hi, Hollis," he says, grinning. He always loves talking to the cop, who treats him sort of like a son but talks to him sort of like an equal, not dumbing anything down. Dan once commented on this and Hollis just ruffled his hair and replied, "Danny boy, you're smart enough to understand most things, and smart enough to ask when you don't." Dan thinks he'll never forget that comment, and tries his best to live up to it.

"How's school going?" Hollis asks. It's always the first thing he says.

"Okay. I got all my homework done yesterday," he says, preempting the next question.

"Good boy," Hollis says, passing him a bottle of root beer and settling into a chair beside him. "So what're you doing here? I'd've thought you'd be out with your friends, enjoying the last of the weekend."

"I was with Laurie earlier, but she said she had to go home. I think she's just annoyed 'cause we were playing superheroes and I kept saving her," Dan explains.

Hollis chuckles. "Yep. Sally used to complain about the same thing. Hard to resist a damsel in distress, though, isn't it?"

"So you and Sally really used to play heroes?" Dan asks, fascinated.

"Oh, sure. She was Silk Spectre and I was the Night Owl. All our friends played."

"Laurie's Silk Spectre now. I thought she made it up herself," Dan says, already planning on calling Laurie out on this omission when he sees her next. "She said I needed a name, too."

"Tell you what," Hollis says. "Why don't you be Night Owl? It's not really cheating, since Laurie took her mom's old name."

"Night Owl." Dan tries it out, liking the sound of it. "You wouldn't mind?"

"I'd be honored." Hollis grins at him and Dan smiles back, already concocting new adventures for Night Owl and Silk Spectre to go on together.

"Who else?" he asks eagerly.

"Oh, everyone. Nelly and Rolf -- they were Captain Metropolis and Hooded Justice."

"Really?" Uncles Nelson and Rolf live together in Nelson's big house and everyone calls them 'uncle' even though they aren't really related to anyone. Sometimes they babysit, and Dan loves running around the mansion and being spoiled by Nelson while Rolf looks on, pretending to be grumpy but smiling under his beard.

"Sure. And Byron -- he was the Mothman -- and Bill, who we used to call Dollar Bill, so it just sort of stuck as his hero name. Ursula -- well, you probably don't know her; she stopped hanging around us in high school, but she was the Silhouette." There's something weird about the way he says this last, and Dan wonders if he misses his old friend. He can't imagine not being friends with Laurie or Adrian or Jon someday.

"Eddie, he was the Comedian. He was younger than the rest of us, of course, and I'm afraid we weren't always very good about including him." Dan's a little surprised at that. He can't really imagine Eddie allowing himself to be left out of anything. Then again, he can't entirely imagine Eddie as a kid at all. Sure, he's got a certain boundless energy that Dan can relate to, but he's so..._big_, so gruff that it's hard to picture him running around, playing games, having friends, though Dan supposes he is friends with Hollis and Sally and the rest of them.

Hollis tells Dan about his friends and the adventures they used to have, Dan urging him on when, a couple of times, he stops, afraid he's boring the kid with tales of times long past. Quite the opposite, Dan is soaking it up, loving the thought of his mentor at his age, playing the same game that he is already captivated by. Besides, he's getting all sorts of ideas for new villains and games and gadgets (he's pretty sure he can find stuff around the house to build at least a few of them). He's a little disappointed when the sun starts going and Hollis insists on walking him home. He is always adamant about this after dark, even though Dan's plenty big enough to be out alone; Hollis does not live in the best neighborhood. Sometimes Dan protests in vain, but tonight he doesn't mind, keeping up the superhero talk all the way back to his house.

Nobody's home when they get there, so Dan lets himself in (he has had a key for nearly a year now, since his dad started working later and later and decided Dan was old enough to look after himself a bit) and goes up to his room. His homework really is done, so he pulls out a notebook and a pencil and starts doodling, attempting to draw out some of the devices he imagined while talking with Hollis. He looks up to see his Batman costume hanging from the closet door, where it has been for some time now, even though Halloween is months away. Looking at the costume to get the basic shape right, he draws a somewhat similar-looking suit, but instead of black, he pulls out a box of crayons and colors it in browns, golds and bronzes, like the colors of owls on the nature documentaries he likes watching. Finally the suit is done to his satisfaction and he scrawls _Nite Owl_ in large, slightly clumsy letters at the top, deciding then and there that Batman is _lame_.


	4. Chapter 4

Dan evades Laurie all day Monday, pausing to say hi before class starts but not meeting up with her at recess as usual. Instead, he wanders around (making sure Laurie doesn't spot him; he doesn't want her to think he's avoiding her on purpose) finally finding the person he's looking for in the far corner of the playground, back propped against a tree, thick book in his lap, bulging backpack open beside him.

"Hi, Adrian," Dan says, settling down cross-legged, back to the chain-link fence, facing his friend.

Adrian looks up from his book, then snaps it shut and smiles at him. "Dan." He's glad for the warm welcome, knowing that Adrian sometimes doesn't like to be bothered when he's reading. He's a bit of a loner and Dan knows a lot of the other kids think he's weird, but he doesn't care. Really doesn't care what they think, and actually _likes_ being alone, except for maybe his closest friends, and Dan actually thinks that's sort of cool.

As they talk, Adrian reaches one hand into the gap in his backpack's zipper, and Dan knows that inside is the stuffed cat that the blond boy likes to carry around. When they were really little, he would bring it to school with him openly every day, but apparently even Adrian isn't _that_ impervious to teasing. He no longer carries the toy every day, and when he does, he keeps it carefully concealed in the backpack, which most kids probably assume is bulging with the books that Adrian perpetually has his nose stuck in. Big, heavy books with long titles and no pictures. Dan is impressed by this, but no longer tries to tell Adrian so, not since the time Adrian had smiled and offered to lend him one. Dan, feeling it would be somehow rude not to, had accepted, and struggled his way through the entire thing, finishing it only to realize he had no idea what he had just read. Thankfully Adrian hadn't wanted to discuss it much, beyond asking how he'd liked it. ("It was...um...good, really good!")

Today, though, Dan's backpack bulges a little strangely as well. He considers showing Adrian what's inside it, but decides to wait.

They sit there for the entirety of recess, and then, at lunch, they track down Jon.

Laurie is waiting when they get to the gate after school. "_There_ you are," she says, hands on her hips (Dan no longer bothers pointing out how many of her gestures resemble her mother's; first, because it annoys her and _nobody_ wants that, second, because he thinks he would spend his time doing nothing else). "Where have you been all day?"

"Around," he says innocently. "Come on, let's go to the treehouse." And he leads the way, trying not to walk so fast as to leave the others behind, though in his excitement, he feels like running. "Wait here," he says. The three of them look at each other in puzzlement as Daniel disappears into the little shack.

A few minutes later, Nite Owl emerges.

"_Whoa_," Laurie gasps. "Your dad is going to be _mad_."

Dan is wearing his Batman Halloween costume, but it no longer resembles the black outfit he's been staring at in anticipation for weeks. He's painted over the foam and plastic in brown, gold and yellow, making it as close to his drawing as he could. For a moment he looks at his friends, all of whom are staring at him wide-eyed, and feels incredibly foolish. One afternoon of messing around in the woods and he's taken it _way_ too far.

He waits for laughter that doesn't come. Instead, Jon says in a slightly awed voice, "_Cool_." The others nod in agreement and Dan's face lights up in a grin.

Wordlessly, Laurie ducks into the treehouse, blushing a little. "Don't you dare come in here," they hear her call out, and then another superhero emerges into the clearing. The boys eye the flimsy yellow dress. "It was my mother's, all right?" and they know better than to say anything against it.

"So I'm Nite Owl, and Laurie's Silk Spectre," Dan says. "Who are you guys going to be?"

"Ozymandias," Adrian says promptly.

Laurie makes a face. "What language is that?"

"Egyptian, I think. I read it somewhere and liked it." The other three share glances, utterly unsurprised by this information.

"It's not really much of a superhero name," she says, and then, seeing Adrian's face fall a bit, adds, "but I guess it's okay. Jon?"

"Doctor Manhattan," he says. "I was a doctor who got blown up in a lab accident and now I have superpowers." He and Adrian have had most of the day to think of their new personas, and clearly they've put the time to good use.

"That doesn't make any _sense_," Laurie says. "If you're blown up, how come you're _here_?"

"'Cause I've got superpowers," Jon says simply, "and I...put myself back together."

"But none of the rest of us have powers," she argues.

"You could make some up."

Laurie thinks about this. "I don't want to have to get blown up or get bitten by anything radioactive or be a mutant. I guess I'm okay with being just a regular person. Who's really strong and good at beating up bad guys," she adds quickly.

"Yeah, me too," Dan chimes in. He wouldn't really mind being bitten by something radioactive, if it didn't hurt _too_ much and came with cool powers, but he knows if Laurie's the only 'normal' one she'll get mad and not want to play.

Adrian thinks it over a bit. "Can I be really strong and really smart too?"

"You _are_ really smart, Adrian," Laurie says, earning a rare smile from the serious boy.

"Okay," Dan says, "so..."

"Wait," Adrian interrupts, "me and Jon don't have costumes."

"Well...maybe we could make some." Jon digs around in his backpack, not finding much that would be useful in creating a superhero costume. Finally he comes up with some paints. Glancing down at his jeans and blue t-shirt, he says, "Maybe whatever exploded me infected me with radiation and made me turn blue." Without further explanation, he proceeds to smear blue paint over his face. Laurie giggles a bit, but it's hard to call someone else silly when you're wearing a little yellow dress with your sneakers or a painted-over Batman costume, and Adrian's still just pouting because he doesn't have a costume at all.

"Well...you've got your cat," Dan says at last.

"Yeah," Laurie picks up his thread quickly, "it can be like your sidekick."

"She," Adrian says, pulling the stuffed purple feline from his bag and looking at it -- her -- a little doubtfully. "I guess."

"And you can name her --"

"Bubastis." The other three look at each other, but no one's about to say anything against that cat, especially not now that Adrian's looking a bit happier.

"It...uh...goes well with Ozzy-man-dis," Laurie says, and the others nod quickly.

"Ozymandias," Adrian corrects, but he's smiling.

"Okay," Dan says, "we all know who we are. Now --"

As it turns out, though, Jon and Adrian have done more than come up with hero identities in school that day. They're both bursting with plots they want to try out, as are Dan and Laurie. With four people, things go much better, because there's always someone to play the evil villain, and a victim to save, and two heroes left over. They spend the rest of the afternoon trading off, and when the sun begins to descend, no one wants to go home.


	5. Chapter 5

By tacit agreement, they leave the game in the woods. Somehow it just doesn't seem right playing at school, though Dan can't help but eye the playground equipment. It only takes the application of a little imagination to see a miniature version of the city there, perfect for running around superheroing. Of course, it's it's also full of other kids, and already the little group is becoming rather possessive of their game. If everyone finds out, they'll either laugh, or, possibly worse, they'll want to play too, and then it won't be as special anymore.

The game is far from forgotten during school hours, though. They meet up at nearly every lunch and recess, spending the time coming up with new characters, stories, and, in Daniel's case, gadgets drawn out on wide-ruled loose-leaf paper. Each of them has had their own close calls, nearly being caught doodling or scribbling down ideas for new missions in class. It's probably lucky that they're split up, Dan and Jon in one fourth grade class, Laurie and Adrian in the other, or they would never hear a word their teachers said, too busy passing notes about their adventures.

"We need a name," Laurie says one day at lunch. There are murmurs of assent all around the table.

"I thought we were the Minutemen," Dan says.

"_No_," Laurie insists, rolling her eyes, "that was our parents. Well, I mean, my parents and Uncle Hollis and Eddie and... _Anyway_, we have to come up with our _own_ team name."

Dan doesn't bother pointing out that Laurie's using her mom's old superhero name and he's using Hollis'. He sort of likes the idea of having their own group name, anyway. Like how the X-Men have Generation X.

Adrian is flipping through his current book, frowning as it apprently contains nothing that would make for a good team name. The other three are actually a little thankful for this -- fine for _him_ to be Ozymandias if he wants, but they don't want to end up stuck with some weird Egyptian name just to appease him. Finally he snaps the book shut, disappointed. "What about..." his face scrunches up a bit in concentration. "What about the Crimebusters?" he suggests. The others look at him a little skeptically, and it's clear from his expression that even he's not wild about the idea. Before anyone can come up with anything better, though, the bell rings. Grumbling, they slowly pack away their things and shuffle off, Laurie and Adrian heading into a nearby room, Dan and Jon to their classroom a little further down the hall. Jon pauses to talk to a fifth-grader that Dan doesn't know, so he continues on, knowing the other boy will catch up.

Something catches his attention, something that sounds like a sharp cry coming from a distance. Frowning, he stops and gazes around. Over on the playground, he notices two hulking kids, obviously fifth-graders, since that's the highest grade in the school, but bearing more resemblance to gorillas escaped from the local zoo, their backs to him, standing over a smaller shape on the ground. He glances around, noticing that the hallway has emptied considerably and Jon is nowhere to be seen, which means he probably doesn't have much time to get to class. Still, something about the sight nags at his mind, and he trots over to investigate.

When the small shape resolves into a kid, he breaks into a full-on run, feeling the same rush of excitement and power he gets when he is Nite Owl, the sensation strong enough to make him ignore the other part of him that is scared and wondering what he's _thinking_.

"Hey!" he cries as he draws closer. "What are you doing?"

The gorillas look up, blinking in slight shock at the short and slightly pudgy kid hurtling toward them with surprising speed. Dan comes to a stop, glaring hard at them, though he's pretty sure he's about to get the pummeling of his life. At least his voice doesn't shake as he demands, "Leave him alone!"

The brutes glance at each other, then back at the kid in front of them. He doesn't look like much, and they could probably take him and the runt both on easily, but two on two is a little fairer than they usually like their odds, and there's always the chance of one slipping away and getting a teacher while they're occupied beating on the other. This new shrimp in particular has _tattletale_ written all over him. They mull it over for a moment, then the smaller of the two shrugs. "We were just talkin'," he says. "C'mon, Larry, let's go." And they amble off, looking surly and shooting glares back over their shoulders.

As soon as Dan has finished thanking his lucky stars that he's apparently not going to die today after all, he offers a hand to the kid, who stares at him sullenly for a moment before grasping it and hoisting himself up.

"Could've handled them myself," he mutters.

Dan sincerely doubts that. This guy is short and scrawny, all corners and angles and awkward, gangly limbs. His hair is flaming red, and at the moment his face matches, almost but not quite managing to hide the clusters of freckles there. Dan suddenly realizes he still has hold of his hand, having been too busy staring rudely to notice. He drops it quickly.

"Um, I'm Daniel," he says, smiling awkwardly. "What's your name?

"Walter," the boy mutters, starting to walk away.

"Hey, um..." Dan jogs a bit to keep up. For being so short, he moves _fast_. "You're in Mr. Long's class, right?" He's pretty sure he's seen him filing out with Laurie's class a time or two.

"Yes." Walter heads in that direction. A little disappointed and not sure why, Dan turns to go to his classroom. Then he stops.

"Hey, Walter?"

"Yes."

"You doing anything after school?"

There's a pause, as if he's considering. "No."

"You wanna come play with me and my friends?"

Walter's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why?"

Dan shrugs. Walter sort of seems like he could use a friend, but he's afraid if he says that it'll come out sounding like he thinks the boy doesn't _have_ any friends which, even if it's true, it s a pretty mean thing to point out. "For fun," he says, then rattles off directions to the treehouse, pausing to make sure Walter knows all the landmarks, waiting for his curt nod before continuing. "You should come, okay?"

Finally, doubtfully, Walter says, "All right," then turns and disappears into the classroom. Dan runs to his own class even though he knows he's already very late. He gets the scolding he's expecting but doesn't really care. The thought of Walter joining them makes him feel inexplicably happy, as though their group is now really complete.

Walter slides quietly into his seat at the back of the room, face burning. As if the confrontation with those two jerks and the ensuing conversation with Daniel weren't embarrassing enough, now the whole class is staring at him.

Mr. Long clears his throat and calls their attention back to the social studies lesson. Walter pulls out his book, flips it open to a page somewhere near where they're currently at, and stares down at it blankly. He's usually a fairly good student, but at the moment he can't focus on anything. Not anything having to do with school, anyway.

He keeps thinking about Daniel. Replaying their conversation and his offer of friendship in his head, wondering what it means. His first thought is that it could just be a trick. Lure weird, wimpy Walter out to the woods, leave him sitting there alone all afternoon -- or worse -- and then laugh about it the next day? But Daniel seemed so sincere, and he did help with those bullies -- _not_ that he'd needed it. (He could have gotten away on his own, and if not, well, he could have taken it, has taken worse. Now, he knows, they'll only go harder next time.)

Probably it's pity, he decides. Everyone knows he's got no friends. Daniel probably just asked him in order to make him feel better. That's somehow worse than the thought of the other boy playing a cruel joke on him, making his stomach twist unpleasantly.

He won't go. He won't go because he doesn't want, doesn't need pity, doesn't need friends, especially not ones who are just humoring him. But mostly he won't go because he wants to so badly.

Mind made up, his resolve lasts the rest of the day, wavering a time or two but never breaking. When the school day ends, he lets himself be swept out the gate in the flood of kids, turning the opposite direction from what Daniel had told him, heading toward his house (he tries not to use the word 'home' because it isn't, not really).

"Walter! Hey, Walter!" He glances over his shoulder to see Daniel waiting there with three others, two of whom he vaguely knows from his class. The blond boy he thinks maybe he's seen around, but he doesn't know him. "C'mon," Daniel says, jogging over to him, "it's this way."

And all his certainty, all his resolve is gone in an instant as he joins the group.


	6. Chapter 6

Dan introduces Walter to Jon, Laurie and Adrian as they walk. He's already told his friends about the boy joining them, adding, softly and a bit awkwardly, "Be nice to him, okay?" They'd been confused by that at first, but now they get it and they're looking at Dan a little like he's crazy. Walter is small and...odd-looking, to put it nicely. Judging by the state of his clothes (neat, but worn and ill-fitting), he's also poor. None of that really matters to them, though. He's just so _quiet_, not speaking unless one of them asks him a question, and then muttering answers in as few words as possible. There's the distinct sense that he doesn't want to be there which they quickly pick up on.

He accompanies them all the way to the woods, though, and when they get there they all look at each other questioningly. They haven't told him about the game and now aren't quite sure how to bring it up. It was one thing telling Adrian and Jon, Dan thinks; they're already friends, but Walter is practically a stranger and even the most basic conversations with him are difficult. Even he is beginning to regret inviting him. Finally he nods at the others, asking Walter, "Er, d'you mind waiting here for a minute?" Walter shrugs and the four of them disappear into the treehouse. They've taken to changing all at the same time, each facing one corner with the understanding that Laurie will gladly beat them _all_ up if they dare to so much as glance at her while she changes. She finally made this concession after getting tired of waiting for the boys, Dan especially, who take almost longer to get into their hero gear than she does. They go to their designated corners, where they each have a pile of clothing and other accoutement waiting for them.

Walter stands outside, hands in his pockets, debating if he should leave. He's a little suspicious at their sudden disappearance, but it's not as if they can take off with him standing outside the only exit, and he hardly thinks they're going to hide in the shack all afternoon just to mess with him. Mostly he just feels incredibly out of place and is tempted to take off before things can get any more awkward.

Before he has a chance, though, the four superheroes emerge. He stares at them wide-eyed. Dan and Laurie are wearing their costumes. Jon has his face and arms painted blue (there's a long-sleeved blue shirt inside the tree house, but as summer draws near, he's taken to simply wearing a t-shirt and painting any exposed skin blue). Adrian still doesn't have much of a costume, but he's got a cape (actually an old and ugly purple curtain pinned around his neck) and he's clutching Bubastis.

"I'm Nite Owl," Daniel says, knowing no other way to proceed than to plunge right in, "and this is Silk Spectre, Doctor Manhattan and Ozymandias."

"And Bubastis," Adrian says, making the cat nod at Walter.

"And Bubastis," Dan concedes. "We're superheroes. Do you wanna play?"

Walter shrugs, but he's actually smiling a little. Daniel seems so sincere, so _eager_. And it does sound like fun. "Okay," he says.

"We still need to decide on a name," Laurie says. "We're not a real team 'til we have a name."

"Yeah," Dan says, "Crimebusters is kinda..."

"_Boring_. Sorry, Adrian." He shrugs, having to admit it's true.

"We need something cool, like the Avengers or the X-Men or..."

"Watchmen," Walter says softly, looking down at the dirt, hands still in his pockets.

"Hey, that's good," Adrian says, "that's really good..."

"It's kinda sexist," Laurie says. "We're not all men. Well, boys."

"Yeah, but the X-Men have girls and no one minds _that_," Jon points out. Laurie thinks about it. Even she has to admit it's a good name. Finally she shrugs, still not completely convinced.

"We...can always be the Watchmen-and-women," Walter says, hesitantly, not feeling quite right about including himself in the 'we,' even if they do like his idea. When he finally glances up, though, Laurie is smiling brightly at him, and the rest of the boys look sort of torn between laughing and rolling their eyes, but they agree, and the team is official.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time summer comes they're all well settled into their superhero personas. Walter doesn't have a costume, but he does have a mask, the only one of them to wear one. He'd found the white ski mask in a trash can, and though his attempt to paint a face on it had only soaked blotchily into the fabric, he'd sort of liked it. Adrian has commented that it reminded him of a Rorschach test, and so he has a name as well. He wears the mask constantly and the others have to admire his dedication, even if they don't envy him the heavy fabric in the New York summer heat.

As it turns out, Walter, once he gets over the worst of his shyness, is a pretty creative kid. He and Laurie come up with most of their plots and villains, while Daniel dreams up, and occasionally actually builds, new and increasingly complex crime-fighting gadgers. Jon and Adrian contribute in their own ways, Doctor Manhattan's powers providing something of a deus ex machina on the rare occasions when they back themselves into a corner, Ozymandias' knowledge of just about everything coming in handy time and time again.

Usually they play in the woods, but occasionally they go to Laurie's, where Sally smiles on and invariable allows herself to be dragged into the game, or Hollis', where the original Night Owl joins them in adventuring. Dan's not supposed to have people over when his dad's not home, and somehow, no one ever mentions going to Walter's house. They learn, too, that it's best to frequent Laurie's during the day, as one tense encounter with Larry, just home from work and not at all happy about finding a superhero team, which happens to include not only his daughter but his wife, in his living room, is enough for a lifetime.

It's a blisteringly hot Wednesday morning when Walter wanders out to the treehouse, now Watchmen headquarters, expecting to be the first one there. He's surprised to hear banging and muttering coming from inside. Quickly he pulls his mask from his pocket, yanking it on before entering.

The assorted collection of crates and buckets that serve as table and chairs has been pushed off to the sides of the small room. In the center is an enormous cardboard box. Walter stares at it for a moment, head cocked to one side, before calling, "Daniel?"

Dan's head pops up from inside the box. "Wa-- Rorschach," he corrects himself quickly upon seeing the mask. "Hi. I was just working on a new invention. I thought I'd be done before anyone got here.

"What is it?" Walter asks, walking over and examining the box with interest. There are several more crates inside, and Daniel is sitting on one of them, hunched over as he affixes a panel with buttons and knobs drawn all over it to the front wall.

"It's an airship," he explains, reaching for an old wagon wheel, still on the axle, which he fits through a small hole on the panel to make a steering wheel.

"Cool," Walter says, staring at the ship, wide-eyed. He's always a little amazed at the stuff Daniel manages to come up with.

"Thanks," Dan smiles. "I'll be done soon. You can watch, if you want." Walter takes a seat, watching as Daniel puts the finishing touches on his ship, cutting big, round holes in the front for windows and making a hatch that raises and lowers by way of a string and simple pulley, so that they won't have to climb over the sides to get in. Finally he clears away the rest of the debris and asks, "You want to take it for a spin?"

Walter takes a seat in the copilot's chair and they zoom around for awhile, laughing as they do loops and narrowly avoid buildings, before Daniel says, "Hey, it's Wednesday. Let's go to Eddie's." He gives the wheel an exaggerated turn and Walter hangs on to his seat as they take off in a new direction.

Landing on the roof of the building, they disembark and run the several blocks through the city, careening around pedestrians, pretending they're still on the ship. Even Walter, usually adamant about sticking to the plot, is having too much fun to point out the discrepancy.

They arrive at the comic shop giggling and out of breath. Eddie looks up from behind the counter when they push the door open. "Hey," he says, grinning, "It's Nite Owl and Rorschach. Hollis told me," he elaborates when they look at him in puzzlement, never having mentioned the game to him. "So, you boys here on a mission, or you just want some comics?"

Comics are the last thing on their minds, now that they have the prospect of a new playmate in front of them. "We're investigating a disappearance," Walter says, making up a story off the top of his head, and Dan knows that within minutes he will have all the details, the victim's name and description, everything.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie says. "Well, can an old guy like me be any help?"

"We would appreciate your help, Comedian," Walter says. He's only met Eddie a handful of times, but the others have filled him in on his hero identity, as well as those of Hollis and Sally and the other Minutemen he hasn't met yet. He sounds a little uncertain, but Eddie's grin only grows wider at his words.

"We should have left a note for the others," Dan says. He hadn't thought they were actually going to stay at the shop long.

Eddie glances at the clock. "It's still early. I'll see if I can catch Silk Spectre on the phone." He winks at them and disappears into the back room. When he returns several minutes later, he's pressing a mask to his face. "The team is on the way," he says. Dan and Walter stare at him in amazement. He's the only one of the adults they've seen don anything like a costume, they only one, for that matter, who hasn't needed at least slight prodding before agreeing to join the game. He seems almost more eager than they are.

Laurie, Jon and Adrian arrive in costume, so Walter pulls his mask back on as well. Dan looks a little disappointed until Adrian pulls the Nite Owl costume from his backpack. "I thought you'd want it," he says. Dan thanks him and runs off to change in Eddie's back room.

They spend most of the day at the shop looking for clues. Eddie has some tables set up for people to play Dungeons & Dragons and such, and a few people agree to be interrogated (and if the 'thugs' have a bit of trouble keeping a straight face, no one mentions it). Unlike Sally and Hollis, who mostly just go along with whatever the kids say or tell stories of their own childhood, Eddie actually wanders around the shop with them when he's not helping customers, pointing out clues and adding to the game without being prompted. By the end of the day they've all but forgotten that he's a grownup. He's so into the Comedian role, and so much _fun_ that he just seems like one of them.

After that, they spend nearly as much time in the comic shop as they do in the woods, on occasion even convincing Eddie to close up early on slow days and come play outside with them.

Summer ends all too soon, but when fifth grade begins, none of them are willing to go back to playing only after school. At first they try to stick to just discussing stories and tactics over lunch, but soon enough there is a group of pint-sized heroes running around the playground.


	8. Halloween Interlude

Note: This is just a quick, rough thing, set between parts 7 and 8, I think. Inspired by an adorable pchat drawing by slipstreamborne: **/yh7ecw5**

The night is exactly what Halloween should be, crisp and cool with the moon hanging huge and deep-orange in the sky. They get a few strange looks in their costumes, but none of them cares. They may not look like any of the comic-book superheroes roaming the streets, but they know that they are something special, something real, unlike those off-the-rack heroes.

Tonight, though, they're not worried about saving anyone, not thinking about plots or villains or anything but running from house to house, collecting as much candy as they possibly can, having fun and being together. Hardly any gown-ups ask them who they're supposed to be, satisfied to see the costumes and deposit goodies in their bags. Eddie escorts them for awhile, donning his mask and seeming almost more childlike than they are.

As the night wears on, they file off one by one, heading home, until finally it's just Dan and Walter meandering down the nearly-deserted sidewalk, past mostly-darkened houses, only a few porch lights remaining on. They dig through their bags as they go, comparing loot. Walter pulls out a wrapped caramel apple on a stick, holding it up triumphantly. Dan paws eagerly through his own bag, but there's not _that_ much candy in there. "I haven't got one," he finally has to concede, sadly.

Walter's midway through shoving up his mask, pushing aside the overlarge scarf that hides half his face, when he sees Dan eyeing his apple. "I'd share," he says, "but I hear people put razor blades in candy apples on Halloween. Wouldn't be safe." He takes a huge and noisy bite, strings of caramel stretching between his lips and the apple, dangling down onto his chin.

Dan's about to protest his hypocrisy, but he sees Walter grinning even as he chews. He holds the apple out sideways and Dan takes an equally large bite.

They walk toward Dan's house, devouring the treat happily in comfortable silence, the sticky caramel cementing their teeth together too much too talk. They end up on the front steps, finishing it off, and then Walter sighs. "I should get home."

Walter doesn't talk much about his parents or where he lives, and his silence is enough to make Dan thinks it's not a great place. He also knows it's not in a very good neighborhood. "Why don't you just spend the night?" he asks.

Walter's eyes light up. "You don't mind? I mean, your dad..." he quickly adds.

"I don't," Dan says, "and my dad wouldn't want you to walk home this late."

This proves to be true when he asks, and so Walter calls home to relay the information, and they go up to Dan's room. Walter seems fascinated by it, staring around at Dan's bed, his toys, model airplanes, books and stuffed animals everywhere. Dan sits on the bed and watches as his friend takes it all in. Finally his eyes land on Dan and he flushes a bit, as if just realizing how long he's been looking.

"So, uh," Daniel says. "D'you...want something to change into?" Walter's 'costume,' as usual, consists of little more than everyday clothes plus his mask and the overlarge scarf and coat. He nods, and Dan digs up some clothes that are a bit small on him, meaning they will only be a couple sizes too big on Walter, and shows him where the bathroom is to change.

They crawl into Daniel's bed, plenty big enough for the both of them, soon after, since it is late and while Dan's dad isn't particularly strict about what time he goes to bed, he does insist on quiet past a certain hour, since he has to be up early for work. They're both completely sugar high and wide awake, though, and they end up talking for hours.

"So..." Dan says, not sure he should bring up the subject, curiosity getting the best of him, "what're your parents like?"

There's a long pause, and he wonders if Walter has fallen asleep, or is faking it. Then he says, "Foster parents."

"Oh," Dan blinks in the darkness. "Uh..."

He wasn't going to ask, but Walter supplies, "My mom gave me up. Don't know why. We don't talk about it. ...don't talk much at all."

"Oh." It seems to be all he can think to say.

"They're all right. Foster a few kids at a time. Mostly in it for the money from the state. They treat us all right, though," he adds quickly, though Dan, thinking of Walter's usually shabby clothes, his stale and minimal sack lunches, can't say he quite agrees with this. "Don't...could be worse," he finishes, and something about his tone makes Daniel think he knows this from experience. He doesn't ask, as much as for his own sake as for Walter's. Instead he changes the subject, and by the time they fall asleep the sky outside is going a pale shade of grey.


	9. Chapter 8

In two fifth-grade classrooms, five kids are staring at two clocks. It's five minutes before lunch, and the hands have slowed to a crawl. Daniel attempts to distract himself, doodling in his notebook, but none of his drawings are coming out right. His mind isn't really on his current batch of inventions (and it's certainly not on fractions, though his worksheet is done and dutifully double-checked). He's still thinking about the kidnapping case the end-of-recess bell had interrupted, itching to get out and finish the story.

He glances over at Walter, who is tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk, obviously trying to appear attentive to his schoolwork, but he's stealking glances at the clock so often that his eyes are a blur of motion. Dan can see a few scribbled notes in the margins of his paper and knows that there will be new plot points when they get out to the schoolyard.

Finally the bell rings. Dan and Walter, despite sitting nearly in the back, are the first out of the room, dashing through the halls, slipping through gaps between the other students. They reach their usual lunch table at almost exactly the same time as Jon, Laurie and Adrian. Quickly they bolt down their lunches (Dan automatically handing over half of his sandwich to Walter, who typically has little more than a slice of balogna between two pieces of stale bread, and taking the small apple Walter insists on giving him in return) before racing out to the playground.

They pick up where they left off, with Jon playing the bad guy (as their games get more complex, they find themselves switching off more and more in the middle of things, no one willing to be left out of the superheroing for long, and the vast majority of the victims now are imaginary). Walter twists his arm behind his back, growling, "Where is she?" He feels Jon wince and immediately lets up on the pressure. He knows he plays a bit rougher than the rest of them, but he tries to be careful about it.

Before Jon can answer, a sandy-blond head appears, followed by a kid scrambling up onto the platform they're standing on. Dan recognizes him from class. Stephen. They're not exactly friends, but they talk sometimes. Less so since the time Dan caught him trying to copy off his science test.

"Hey, guys. What're you playing?"

The all glance at each other before Dan finally admits, "Superheroes."

"Cool," Stephen says. "Can I play too?"

"No," Walter says bluntly. He's still got his grip on Jon's arm, doesn't even realize he's twisting harder until Jon lets out a soft "Ow."

Stephen pouts. "Why not?"

"Uhh, we're sort of in the middle of something," Dan says. "Maybe some other time, okay?" He doesn't really want the other boy butting into their game either, but he doesn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Yeah," says Laurie, "we're halfway through a mission. Anyway, you have to make up a hero to be."

"Oh," Stephen says, disappointed. "Well..." He's about to try and make up an identity on the spot, but at Walter's glare, he just says, "Okay," and shimmies back down the wooden ladder he'd just come up.

It takes them awhile to get back into the game after this interruption, but they manage to wrap up the kidnapping by the end of lunch. Back in class, Dan notices Stephen looking at him and Walter funny. He ignores it, but Walter has clearly noticed too, shooting sullen looks back at the blond boy on occasion.

As they hurry out to the gate after the final bell, a few kids glance at them, and Dan even thinks he hears a couple of giggles in their direction. Word of their game has obviously spread. He shrugs it off. Maybe it is a little silly to still be playing pretend at their age, but it's fun, and as long as he has his friends he doesn't really care that much what anyone else says.

Walter clearly does, though. He spends the whole walk out to Headquarters ranting about Stephen, first for trying to get in on their game (they're all agreed on this, though no one is nearly as bothered by it as he is), then for spreading word of it around school. Laurie, Jon and Adrian have gotten a bit of teasing about it as well, but they share Dan's indifference, the general consensus being that the five of them have each other, and they're having fun, and that's what counts.

Still, they agree with Walter as he goes on about Stephen and his big mouth and what a pain in the butt he is, and when the rant laps itself and he starts repeating all his points a second time, they nod in all the right places. When they've been in the treehouse nearly an hour and he's still going, though, they begin to look at each other in exasperation, wondering how long before he lets the really fairly minor intrusion go.

Finally he pauses for breath and Adrian jumps in, softly saying, "Hey, let's talk about something else, okay?" Walter shuts up, going a bit pink as if he's only just realized how long he's been talking, and they do talk about other stuff for awhile, but it seems sooner than usual when they all think of reasons they ought to be getting home, and they go their separate ways, the first time in ages the Watchmen have not officially met after school.


	10. Chapter 9

The next day, things are a little tense at first, Walter barely muttering hello when Dan slides into the seat beside him. Dan pulls out a sheet of paper and passes it over. Walter smiles slightly down at the upgrade plans for the ship they are now calling Archie and doing most of their adventuring in (Dan has already reinforced the sides and bottom with nearly an entire roll of duct tape so that they can bring it out in the clearing without worrying about it getting wet or dirty). A little hesitantly, he begins recounting some ideas he has for today's game, becoming more animated at Dan's encouraging smile, and by the time their teacher arrives, things seem to be back to normal.

Stephen is out sick, and Dan is sort of glad. He's not really sure what to do about the boy. The team is solid with the five of them (or occasionally six, when Eddie joins in), and to be perfectly honest, he just doesn't like Stephen that much. Still, he knows what it's like to be left out, and he doesn't want to be mean. Maybe he can play sometimes during recess, Dan decides. There's no reason they have to invite him along after school.

He means to mention this idea to the others, but doesn't really know how to bring it up without getting Walter angry again. They get so wrapped up in the game after not playing the previous afternoon that the subject just never comes up.

Most of their time after school that day is spent helping Dan make his modifications to Archie. He's borrowed a boxcutter from his dad -- the kind of borrowing, that is, where he'll make sure to have it back before anyone ever notices it's gone -- and painstakingly cuts holes in the floor of the box, reinforcing the edges of these with more tape, so that they can actually move the craft while inside it, as well as affixing some new knobs and levers to the control panel, which is making the transition from purely visual to actually functional as fast as Dan can find new items to attach to it. When they take the ship out for a test run they find moving it is still a little awkward, but definitely possible. Then Dan gives them all flying lessons, explaining what all the new buttons and instruments do, which comes in handy as they conveniently make sure Nite Owl is knocked out during their next mission.

The next day at recess they're up on the wobble wooden bridge that connects two of the playground climbing structures, saving some people from a flood, when Stephen comes charging over, making the bridge shake precariously as they all try to keep their feet.

"Hey guys!" he says excitedly. He's wearing a short red cape, which is more than any of them dare to do during school hours, their costumes remaining in their corners back at Headquarters. "Guess what? I made up a name! I'm Captain Carnage," he announces proudly, hands on his hips. "I'm a supervillain. Can I play now?"

"No," Walter says immediately.

"Why not?" Stephen demands, pouting in a way not entirely becoming of a supervillain.

"Because you _can't_," Walter snaps before anyone else can say anything.

"You're mean," Stephen says, getting angry now. "I just wanted to play with you guys."

"Walter," Dan starts, "why not --"

"_No_," Walter insists, cutting him off. "We don't need him."

"_Fine_," Stephen says. "I didn't really want to be a stupid supervillain anyway. It's a dumb game. You guys are dumb." He turns to walk away, and before anyone can react, Walter lunges forward and shoves him. The bridge lurches again at the sudden movement, and Stephen slips, loses his footing and tumbles over the side, hitting the ground with a sickening _thud_.


	11. Chapter 10

The mood inside the treehouse that afternoon is definitely subdued. No one feels much like adventuring and no one knows what to say, so they sit largely in silence. Walter is in detention, which will probably not be the last of his punishment. Stephen wasn't seriously injured in the five-foot drop, only had a slightly twisted ankle and the wind knocked out of him, but he _could_ have been. Walter spent a good deal of time in the principal's office, refusing to talk to Dan when he returned to class, and they're all anxious to know the outcome.

"_Why_ did he have to do that?" Laurie finally bursts out. It would seem random after several minutes of not speaking at all, were it not what they're all thinking. "I mean, I didn't want him there wither, but Walter didn't have to _push_ him like that," she continues miserably.

"It really bugged him that Stephen was telling people about the game," Dan says. That much is beyond obvious, but he doesn't know what else to say.

"I think," Adrian says softly, with a sort of hesitancy not usually heard from him, "I think he was afraid he was going to...replace him, or something."

"But that's so _dumb_," Dan interjects. Laurie makes a disgusted noise of agreement while the others nod. "No one could --" He abruptly goes silent as a shadow falls across the floor of the treehouse.

"Walter!" Laurie cries, jumping up. Walter stands stiffly, hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground, and she looks as if she wants to hug him, but thinks better of it. "What happened?"

"Principal Keene called my parents in," he mutters. "I'm grounded."

They all mutter sympathetically and Jon asks, "How long?" to which Walter only shrugs.

"I told them none of you were involved. But Stephen said...and..." he trails off brokenly, finally forcing himself to look up and utter the next words. "We're not allowed to play at school anymore. I'm sorry."

He looks almost ready to cry, and Dan is quick to assure him, "It's okay."

"Yeah," Laurie jumps in, "we've still got after school, right?"

Walter shrugs. "I have to get home. Told them I had to come pick up a book. Thought I should tell you guys."

In the following weeks, there's very little Watchmen activity at all. Somehow it just doesn't seem right without Walter. The first few days they try to go back to just talking during recess, planning the adventures they'll have as soon as he's ungrounded, but he mostly only sulks and mutters broodily, refusing to contribute. Finally he stops meeting up with them at all.

"He's not mad at us, is he?" Dan worries.

"I think he's mad at himself," Adrian says.

That's probably true, but it soon becomes clear that Walter will take out his feelings on any available target. He soon gains a reputation for picking fights with anyone and everyone, including kids far bigger than he is. Every day he has new bruises and scratches. It's not long before he lands himself in Principal Keene's office again, and Dan overhears two teachers referring to him as the 'terror of the playground.' He wishes his friend would talk to him, but any attempt to start a conversation is met with little more than monosyllabic grunts, that is, when Walter doesn't shrug him off entirely.

Finally, guiltily, they start playing again, though it's not quite the same. Partly it's Walter's creativity that's lacking, but mostly it's just his _presence_, his energy, leaving the team always feeling incomplete.

Then one day, he appears in the clearing. They all freeze, the crushed look on his face telling them they've made a huge mistake.

"Walter..." Laurie starts, but he's already walking away.

There's a moment where they all look at each other, stunned, not knowing what to do or say, then Dan mutters, "Oh, hell," and takes off after him.

He chases Walter for several blocks, until they're both out of breath, finally managing to catch the redhead's shoulder and pin him against a wall with more force than he would have expected of himself.

Walter stares back at him miserably. "Let me go, Daniel. I get it, you don't --"

"No," Dan gasps, "you _don't_. You don't get it at _all_. We _missed_ you --"

"Don't have to lie. I saw you..."

"I'm _not_ lying," he insists. "We did. We only started playing again because...we didn't know when you were going to be back. We didn't know if you were _coming_ back. You've been avoiding all of us at school."

"Sorry," Walter says, the fight seeming to go out of him, and Dan sighs in relief.

"It's okay," he says. "Just come back. Please? It's not the same without you."

"Really?" Walter says, looking at him as if trying to gauge his honesty by his face.

"Really," Dan says. "And...you've got to stop getting in trouble, okay? We need you."

Walter stares at the ground for a few moments, processing, or debating. Finally he meets Dan's eyes, a bit hesitant. "I'll try," he says. It's an apology, an admission, a promise, all contained within those two words. Dan nods.

"So..." he inclines his head back in the direction they'd just come from. Walter nods, and they set off together. The rest of the afternoon is spent in the woods. There's an enthusiasm to their game that they have not felt in weeks, perhaps not since they first started, and all unpleasantness is, if not quite forgotten, at least not spoken of. They are back together and all is right in their little world. It is the first time in a long time that things flow seamlessly, perfectly, the first time they play until sunset and a bit beyond, pushing the boundaries of when they should be home.

Unknown to any of them, it is also one of the last times things will be this good, this simple.


	12. Chapter 11

The days lenghten, growing ever warmer, the promise of summer filling them all with an energy that they can barely contain throughout the school days. The moment the final bell rings they race for the gate and another afternoon spent in their haven of the woods, or at Eddie's, and they stay later and later, occasionally not getting home until the moon is beginning to appear in the sky. On these occasions Walter often sleeps over at Dan's house, becoming almost a regular fixture there. Dan's dad doesn't mind so long as they aren't too rambunctious, and Walter's parents are almost glad to have him out of the house, their only concern being that he keeps his grades up. He does, and he also keeps his not-quite-promise to Dan, joining them once again at their table during breaks, participating in the conversation as enthusiastically as ever. If anything, not being allowed to play at school only seems to lend the game a certain energy it was beginning to lack, though that could also be the return of Walter's contributions. It is the most fun they have ever had, the time of their lives.

And it is this feeling that everything is right in their little world, that nothing can go wrong, that causes Laurie to slip up.

It's one of those nights, where they've lost track of time out in the clearing, not wanting to leave, convincing themselves that they can stay a little longer, just a few minutes more, until the minutes turn to hours and they're racing home in semi-darkness, praying they won't be in trouble. Laurie slips into the house to find her parents sitting on the couch. Larry glances at the clock pointedly, starting to speak, but Sally shushes him. "It's Saturday. Let her be."

Gratefully Laurie starts toward her room, off the hook --

"Wait. Come back here." Reluctantly she aqcuiesces, thinking he's going to comment on her lateness after all.

"What's that?" Larry asks, glancing down. Laurie follows his gaze and her heart sinks, eyes slifing closed in mingled disgust and resignation. She'd dressed quickly, throwing jeans and t-shirt over her costume, not wanting to take the time to change properly.

And an inch of gauzy yellow material has come untucked from her jeans, dangling freely, cheerily announcing its presence to the world.

She looks back up at her father, mouth opening to explain, but she doesn't know what to say. It's not as though he's ever _forbidden_ her to play, but the message has been conveyed clearly enough in glances and overheard conversations. She's never understood what he has against the idea, but she's been careful to keep anything related to the game hidden from him, just in case. Until now.

Larry reaches out while she's still floundering for words, yanks the material hard enough to tear, and the rest of the skirt flutters down around her hips, leaving no doubt as to exactly what it is. The sick feeling that always accompanies impending punishment is instantly replaced by indignation. How dare he rip her costume, her _mother's_ costume? Her eyes narrow as she prepares to tell her father off, something that has never met with success on any of the handful of occasions she's been brave enough to try it, but consequences are the last thing on her mind now.

Before the words can leave her mouth, he gives the skirt one last, decisive glance, then declares crisply, calmly, "go take that off and bring it back here. You won't be needing it. No more 'superheroes,' you're getting too old for this crap."

Laurie gasps. Her resolve leaves her and instead of calling him out, she finds herself pleading with him in an impotent, childish way she hates even as the words leave her mouth. "No, Dad, why? We're not doing anything bad. And it's almost summer --"

She's a little surprised when her mother's voice cuts through her own. "Larry." That one word is cold, steely, the expression on Sally's face matching perfectly. It's not often Laurie sees her mother like this, and she can only be glad that the anger doesn't seem to be directed at her.

Larry looks between the two of them, a rock and a hard place, and finally gives a sharp nod, accompanied by a slight roll of his eyes that would seem more fitting on someone Laurie's age. "Fine," he says in his usual long-suffering way, sounding as though he's doing her a huge favor. "You have until the end of summer. But I don't want to see it, I don't want to hear it, and this nonsense ends when school starts, do you hear me? You need to start acting your age, young lady."

Laurie nods, and there's a tense moment before Sally says, "Well, that's...settled, then. Laurie, why don't you go on to your room?" Her voice still has that hard undertone, but she gives her daughter a quick smile to show she's not in trouble.

Laurie trudges toward her bedroom, mind churning. All's well that ends well, and the discussion has ended as well as it possibly could -- she's not grounded, and they still have the summer, at least. She should be happy and can't quite figure out why she isn't.

She can hear hushed, tense voices behind her, knows immediately what they're talking about. She debates for only a moment before turning back, creeping as close as she dares to the living room doorway and pressing herself against the wall.

"--needs to get her head out of the clouds," Larry is saying.

"What does it matter?" Sally says, not for the first time, as her tone clearly implies. "She's still a kid; let her be one. Her grades are fine, she's keeping out of trouble, she's got good friends --"

"Yeah," he interjects, "just like you had _good friends_."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," he says, accusing. "You think I don't know Eddie Blake called here the other day?"

"He was looking for Laurie --"

"Sure he was. Hanging around with a bunch of kids, taking them out trick-or-treating... Any excuse to get close to you, just like when we were --"

"_Enough_," she says sharply. "Eddie's got nothing to do with this."

Larry laughs bitterly. "Eddie's got everything to do with this. For ten years I've been --"

Laurie leans forward, trying to catch the words, her father speaking in a near-hiss now. Her hand slides against the wall, and Sally's head jerks sharply toward the sound.

"Laurie, I told you to go to your room!" Her words are harsh, but the look on her face is...a mixture of sadness, regret, guilt...and something that looks almost like fear. Laurie's never seen her mother look like that, doesn't have much time to look now, as she immediately complies this time, before either of them can decide to punish her after all. She hurries to her bedroom, flinging the door closed behind her to shut out anymore hushed words.

She changes quickly, leaving her clothes strewn across the floor, and crawls into bed. In the darkness her mind flashes back to the overheard argument. She doesn't understand a lot of it, certainly doesn't know what Eddie has to do with anything or why her dad minds him being around, but one thing is clear -- it's her fault. Her parents are fighting because of _her_, because of the stupid game.

The image of her mother's startled face sticks in her mind, and it's a long time before she falls asleep, tears drying on her face.


	13. Chapter 12

**Laurie wakes the next morning in a foul mood, and it takes her a moment to realize why. Then the overheard argument comes rushing back, and a sick feeling settles in her stomach. She rolls out of bed and is surprised to find the Silk Spectre costume hanging neatly from her closet door, rip mended so well she can barely tell it's there. **

**She shoves the door roughly, causing the outfit to slip from the hanger and flutter to the floor, where she kicks it unceremoniously into the back of the closet where it belongs, slamming the door closed. **

**It's Saturday, and for the first time in her life, she has no desire to go to the treehouse. She knows her friends are waiting for her, though, and the thought of spending the day in the house with her parents is unbearable, so after a quick breakfast, she meanders out to the woods. **

**The team is indeed waiting for her, already in costume, and they all smile as she approaches, the sight only making her feel worse. She's already made her parents fight, and now she has to let her friends down as well. **

"**Hey, Silk Spectre!" Dan says eagerly. "Hurry up and get changed and --" he pauses, seeing the look on her face. "What's wrong?"**

"**Nothing," she lies. "Just…let's do something else today, okay?"**

"**You don't want to play?" Dan asks in confusion.**

"**No…yeah…but…" She sighs. "I mean, well, don't you think we're getting a little old for this stuff?"**

**They all stare at her, puzzled. "No," Adrian says, amidst murmurs of agreement. **

**Walter is looking at her, head tilted slightly, his expression more thoughtful than perplexed, searching. "You don't think so either," he says at last. "What's really wrong?"**

**Laurie sighs and sinks down on a tree stump. She resists the urge to put her head in her hands, the sort of overdramatic gesture her mother is sometimes prone to. "I'm not allowed," she admits.**

"**What? Why?"**

"**My dad says…says I need to grow up. And get my head out of the clouds."**

"**So you have to quit? Just like that? That's so unfair!"**

"**He says I can play for the summer, but --"**

"**Well, what are we waiting for?" Dan says, but Laurie just keeps talking as if he hasn't.**

"**But why bother when I'm just going to have to give it up?"**

**There's a moment of silence at this uncharacteristic statement, then Walter says, "More to it than that," and while she's busy being amazed at how well he can read her, the words come tumbling out.**

"**My parents had a fight. A big one. All because of the stupid game. And…and…" She falls silent, not knowing how to explain the gnawing feeling in her gut, certain that any attempt to try would only cause the tears prickling at her eyes to spill over.**

"**Not your fault," Walter says immediately, once again gauging her unspoken thoughts with surprising accuracy. Joining her on the stump, he puts an arm around her shoulders. This coming from the boy who usually accepts physical contact only in the form of roughhousing is enough of a shock to make her look up at last, see that her friends are nodding slowly.**

"**Yeah," Adrian says, looking the slightest bit surprised at not being the one to correctly diagnose the problem for once, but quickly jumping in to try and mend it. "No offense, Laurie, but…your dad's kind of a jerk."**

**This elicits a small smile from Laurie and quick agreement from the rest. "Even I know that," says Walter, who's only met him the once. **

"**Yeah," Laurie says at last, "I guess."**

"**So come on," Dan says, "let's play. Screw your dad."**

**A slight giggle escapes her. The words just sound so weird, especially coming from her typically polite friend. Somehow they manage to break through the last of her melancholy mood. "Yeah," she agrees with more certainty, and then, feeling daring, adds, "Screw him," ignoring the ridiculous urge to look around, as though her father might be hiding behind some tree to overhear this disrespect. **

"**We'll just have to have the best summer ever, right?" Jon says. **

"**Right," she agrees, smiling even as she sniffs slightly, which everyone politely fails to notice. She finds herself swept up in a group hug, filled with an overwhelming love for her friends. **


	14. Chapter 13

Sally glances up as a team of superheroes sweeps noisily through her living room. "'Bye mom!" Laurie calls over her shoulder. "Going to Eddie's!"

"Have fun!" she calls back as the front door slams shut behind them. They exude a sort of youthful exuberance that seems to linger in the room, making her miss being that age, long for the sheer, untainted joy of a hot summer day and the company of good friends.

It's still early, hours before she has to worry about having dinner ready, and she wonders if Hollis is home. _Only one way to find out_, she thinks, reaching for the telephone.

***

It's the first time in weeks they've been to the comic shop, and Eddie feigns hurt for a few minutes before joining in as enthusiastically as ever. Laurie finds her eyes drawn to him more than usual. "Eddie has everything to do with this," her father's voice echoes in her head. What had he meant? She's sure that Eddie would know, wants to ask him but doesn't know how to bring it up.

Customers are few and far between, the few that do come in occasionally having to wait an extra minute or two to be rung up, distracted as Eddie is. No one seems to mind, though, too amused by the minor spectacle taking place before them. Finally the kids convince him to close up and come out to the woods with them, where he takes up fully a third of the space in Archie, now less a cardboard box and more a hybrid of balsa wood and aluminum sheeting as Daniel has replaced the inevitable weakening points with more durable materials. Eddie even has his own chair, a battered old thing Walter had found byt the side of the road and dragged back to Headquarters so that their grown-up companion wouldn't have to crouch on one of the decidedly kid-sized crates.

The sun is setting when they start walking home, Eddie escorting them partway. He offers to walk Laurie all the way home, but she refuses so vehemently that they're all a little surprised. As the only girl in the group, she is occasionally touchy about being treated any differently from the boys, but not _that_ touchy. Finally Jon and Adrian assure Eddie that they'll see her home safe (later assuring Laurie that of course they know she would be fine on her own, they just didn't want Eddie to worry, never realizing that her one-of-the-boys pride is, in this case, the furthest thing from her mind). He nods and splits off with Dan and Walter.

Laurie checks herself carefully when she gets home, even though she's left her costume back in the treehouse. She's determined not to do anything else to set her father off. She feels a little paranoid, but the feeling dissipates immediately as she walks through the door to find him waiting, already glaring at her.

"There you are. Where's your mother?" he demands.

She blinks at the strange question. "I…don't know." Her mom's always home at this time. She's home most of the time, really, and Laurie feels a slight twinge of worry mix with her confusion.

It doesn't last long, though, as Sally breezes through the door only moments later. "Where have you been?" Larry demands, sounding more as if he's scolding a wayward child than talking to his wife.

If Sally's smile falters, it's only a bit. "I went to see Hollis. We lost track of the time," she says, giggling slightly, the sort of laugh that Laurie is too young yet to realizes is the product of a few drinks.

"Obviously," Larry snorts, voice rising. "I come home to an empty house, no note, no call, dinner not ready…"

Sally laughs again, but this time it's humorless, closer to her husband's harsh sound of disgust. "Calm down. So I went to see an old friend and stayed longer than I intended. Don't you know how to heat up leftovers? Or am I just supposed to be at your beck and call?"

This serves only to incense him further. "I work hard all day. I support you and your kid so that you can sit around and be a housewife, and you can't even do _that_!" Laurie is frozen, looking back and forth between them as he rages. She's literally caught in the middle, wanting to leave, wanting to go to her room and shut the door and turn up the radio she got for her birthday as loud as it will go, but she can't seem to make herself move as he continues, "So yes, it would be nice to come home to dinner on the table and my wife actually _here_ and not out visiting with _old friends_."

"Larry --"

"If I call Hollis Mason," he explodes, "is he going to say you were over there today?"

Sally's face flushes, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Yes, he would, if you were ridiculous enough to call and bother him at this hour. Of course, he's probably also say that you're a rude, jealous, insecure _ass_!" She looks ready to throw something, but instead she shakes her head and says more calmly, "I don't need this. I'm going to bed." And she does just that, leaving her husband glowering at Laurie, the only remaining target for his ire. She quickly scampers off to her room.

She thinks things over for a long time. She doesn't know why her dad is so mad at her mom for going to see Uncle Hollis, or why he would suspect her of lying about it, but she's pretty sure she knows one person who will have some answers. Next time Eddie offers to walk her home, she resolves, she's going to take him up on it.

As the days wear on, though, she never manages to find more than a few moments alone with him. Thankfully there are no more major fights, and if her parents are a little snippier than usual with each other, they're at least civil and she doesn't think about it that much, instead throwing herself into the game and her friends. They can almost physically _feel_ the passing of each day, time slipping by too fast even as they try to cling to it, try to hold on to their remaining moments.

Finally it's the last day of August, and they've just wrapped up the case they've been working on for two weeks, and they're all looking at each other glumly.

"Well," Dan says, "I guess this is it."

Walter nods. "Have to stop. Won't play without you." he says, looking at Laurie seriously. Jon and Adrian are quick to agree, but it's Walter she's looking at, wondering if he knows how much those words mean, especially when she hadn't even bothered to extend him the same consideration. She feels a surge of gratitude, as well as some deeper emotion she can't name, swell within her, mingling the growing resentment she has been feeling toward her father without even realizing it, and suddenly, she's shaking her head.

"No. We just have to not get caught."

Dan's grinning at her. "You mean.."

She nods. "You guys are the best friends I've ever had. This is the most _fun_ I've ever had. I'm not giving it up just because my dad's an ass." She blinks and then giggles at her language, her mother's words coming from her mouth.

"Right on," Jon says, the others voicing their agreement. They depart not long after, in much better spirits than they have been all day. She walks with Dan and Walter today, and when they arrive at her door, Walter shoves his hands in his pockets and says, so solemnly that she has to restrain a laugh, "Good evening, Silk Spectre."

"Night, Rorschach, Nite Owl," she says, grinning. "See you guys tomorrow." And when she walks inside and Larry demands to know what she's so happy about, she just shrugs and goes to plan her outfit for the next day.


	15. Chapter 14

There's a certain feeling of elation that accompanies the first day of junior high. A feeling of being remarkably grown-up, on top of the world, no longer a child in elementary school but a _young adult_.

It lasts all of ten minutes after walking in the front gate. The excitement of a new school is quickly replaced by the frustration of not knowing where anything is, of being lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. Laurie fights her way through the crowd, glancing around almost frantically for Dan or Walter or _anyone_ she knows. She thinks she catches a glimpse of Walter's fiery hair, but at that moment the bell rings, he turns a corner, and she's left standing in the rapidly-emptying hallway, clutching an already-wrinkled and practically indecipherable schedule.

_Great_.

It's lunchtime before she manages to find any of her friends. They stake out a table in the middle of the quad, all of them looking equally harried. Things start to feel a little more normal once they're all together. They compare schedules, groaning in disappointment at how few classes they share (Laurie tries not to be too upset that she has _nothing_ with any of them, while the others at least cross paths for a period or two), and trade horror stories of getting lost in the halls or pushed around by eighth-graders who seem almost able to smell the fear of new students. Just when they're beginning to feel they've got their feet back under them, the end-of-lunch bell rings. Jon and Adrian set off to their shared science class, while Dan and Walter go their separate ways, already looking forward to meeting up again in fifth-period English, and Laurie wanders away a little dejectedly to hunt down her history classroom.

Days pass, then weeks. Navigating the new school becomes second nature, and if the eighth-graders don't really get any less scary, they at least get easier to avoid. They settle in by increments, adapting to harder classes, more demanding teachers, larger piles of homework each night, and if they don't see each other quite as much as they're used to, it's to be expected.

They try to meet up every day for lunch at 'their' table, but even that is hit-or-miss. Adrian and Jon seem to be constantly working on extra-credit projects for one class or another. Neither of them actually _need_ the extra points (Dan, who shares a history class with Adrian, points out that he got the highest grade out of everyone on the first test, to which Adrian blushes and mumbles and makes an admirable but utterly failed attempt to hide his grin), but they seem unable to resist attacking any schoolwork that is set before them.

Walter, on the other hand, _does_ need extra credit. It's not that he's not smart enough -- he, too, often excels on tests, but he shows up to most classes with his homework rushed through only minutes before, if it's done at all. He sleeps through class more than occasionally, and seems to be always scrambling to catch up. When he does show up at lunch, he's mostly a grouchy blur of red hair and crumpled papers as he frantically scratches out answers to math problems or digs through his perpetually-messy bag for the assignment he _had this morning, know I did…_ so that it often seems like he's not there at all. On one such occasion Dan catches sight of a red scribble across the top of one of his friend's assignments: _Needs to put in more effort_. Walter notices where Dan's gaze has landed and quickly shoves the page out of sight, face going pink. Dan doesn't say anything, but he knows how hard Walter _is_ trying, wishes there was something he could do to help, knows better than to think the other boy capable of swallowing his pride enough to _let_ him.

Dan himself joins the AV club and is disappointed when they don't seem to actually _do_ much. Still, he sticks around, since it's only one lunchtime meeting a week, and it's sort of nice having more than four people in the school he can tentatively call friends, even if their association outside of the club is pretty much limited to hellos in the halls. He's pretty sure that 'AV club' is actually just code for 'refuge of geeks,' but well, when has he ever claimed to be otherwise?

Laurie watches her friends go about their business and tries not to feel left out. She tells herself that she saw this coming, that of course middle school would change things. It's a lie -- she'd expected everything to go on as usual, but now she sees how silly that is. She makes friends with a few girls from her classes, joins them for lunch on days when everyone else is busy, even has them over to her house to study a few times. She has little in common with them -- they seem to be mainly interested in boys, makeup and gossip, and she largely stays quiet and nods at the right points in their stories. When she does speak, it is often met with awkward pauses, or the sort of good-natured yet slightly condescending giggle which seems to say, 'Oh, _Laurie_.' It's nice having someone to hang out with, though, even if she doesn't _quite_ fit in, and her dad loves them, which is a nice change.

She thinks of the promise to keep the Watchmen going, wonders if it's been forgotten. Maybe it really was a game for little kids, and they have gotten too old for it now. The others clearly think so -- it's well into October and the game has barely been so much as mentioned. She's not about to bring it up when they've obviously grown tired of it, obviously have better things to do. She tries to enjoy what little time they do have together, tries to blend in a little better with her apparently more 'appropriate' group of girlfriends, tries to remember the exhilaration of being a 'young adult' and fight down the longing to be a little kid again, running around the woods and taking turns piloting a cardboard-box airship.

***

Dan finishes up his worksheet with fifteen minutes to go in the period, and glances over at Walter's desk. The other boy is obviously done with his work as well; the worksheet is pushed to the other side of the desk and he's doodling in his notebook. Dan cranes his neck a bit, grinning when he catches sight of the twin R's. Glancing behind him to make sure their teacher is occupied at her desk, he leans over and adds a little crescent moon. Walter grins up at him.

_I miss it_, he scribbles on a sheet of paper ripped from his own notebook, and passes it over.

Walter raises an eyebrow. _Thought you were too busy_.

Dan shrugs. They're all busy. _There has to be_ some _time we can meet_.

Walter considers this a bit, then scratches out a few words in his barely legible handwriting on the original paper. He passes it over to Dan, who grins widely and nods. He folds up the page, shoves it in his pocket, and rushes out the door as soon as the bell rings. His eyes scan the crowd as students flow from classroom doors. He's pretty sure Adrian's class is right down the hall, and sure enough, there he is, hunching slightly under the weight of a backpack that now really _is_ full of books, Bubastis having taken up permanent residence as guardian of the treehouse by now. Dan hands off the note, saying a quick hello before sprinting off to his next class, clear on the other side of campus.

***

"Laurie! Hey, Laurie!"

She pauses on the way into her sixth-period class, lingering in the doorway as Jon runs up to her. He hands her a folded, battered scrap of paper, then takes off, running late for his own class. She unfolds it as she walks to her seat. _Saturday_, it reads. _Treehouse. Everyone in?_ Beneath that: a crescent moon, two mirrored R's, a rough Egyptian eye, and a circle with two dots that she recognizes as a molecule of some sort.

"Ooh," Leslie says, leaning over. "What's that?"

"Nothing," Laurie replies, quickly adding a stylized 'SS' before shoving the note into her bag. Leslie smirks back at her, and it takes Laurie a moment to realize she thinks it's a love note or something. The huge smile on her face probably isn't doing anything to refute this assumption, and she doesn't care one bit.


	16. Chapter 15

It's a complete reversal of the first weeks of school, when they'd all expected things to run so smoothly and been so unpleasantly surprised. They arrive at the treehouse apprehensive, feeling like it has been ages since they last played, rather than a couple months. Awkwardness is to be expected.

And it is awkward -- for all of five minutes. Then Walter is laying out the ideas he has had in the ample time since they last met, and Laurie is adding on, and Dan is pulling out page after page of new inventions. They fall back into their make-believe world as if they have never left it. Before they go home that day (all of them feeling more cheerful than they have in recent memory, as though something has been righted that they hadn't even realized was wrong), they pledge to meet up at least once a week.

And they do. It quickly becomes routine -- every weekend, and after school when they can manage it. It requires a little effort, a little bit of Laurie blowing off her girlfriends and fibbing to her father (though she suspects her mom knows _exactly_ what she is up to), a little of Jon and Adrian rearranging their time (and grudgingly admitting that no, perhaps they don't need to do _every_ bit of schoolwork they lay eyes on), but it is the highlight of their week. Walter starts spending more nights at Daniel's house again, and his grades improve slightly, the other boy providing something of a stabilizing influence in his natural state of chaos, as well as a clean and quiet place to do his homework.

They still miss playing on a daily basis, but it's just not possible now, so they try to be content with the time they have. It's a satisfactory if not ideal compromise that lasts until the day before Christmas vacation. They've just discarded their superhero accoutrements (they're all down to bits and pieces of their original costumes now -- Laurie's outfit still fits, but is so short she wears her jeans under it; Dan's cut the Batman suit up and kept pieces of the armor to go along with the pair of swim goggles he's painted to match; Walter, of course, has his mask; Adrian has traded in his old curtain for a proper cape from a Halloween shop, and Jon has taken to drawing the symbol of a hydrogen atom on his forehead with an old eyeliner of Sally's in lieu of an outfit) and gathered up their bags in preparation to go their separate ways, when Adrian says, "wait," and rummages in his backpack.

He pulls out a composition book, the standard sort of thing that they all use to take notes in class. "I thought," he says, a little hesitantly, and the rest of them grin at each other in anticipation -- Adrian is always shy about his ideas, and none of them understand why, since they more often than not end up being great -- "that since we can't play that much, maybe we could, ah, pass this around and write in it? Like notes?"

"Or mission logs," Walter says, his eyes lighting up.

"Yeah," Dan agrees, already envisioning pages filled with sketches. It's not quite the same as actually coming to the woods every day, but it's better than not playing at all for days at a time. Adrian has already drawn out the word 'Watchmen' in neat block letters on the first page, and they all eagerly add their insignias beneath it. Walter is first to take the book, tucking it almost reverently into his bag before setting off with Dan.

By the time they reconvene several days later, the first ten pages are filled in. Most of the words are in Dan's neat printing, but the story has been partially dictated by Walter (who has, of course, spent the majority of the week at Dan's house).

The notebook turns out to be possibly Adrian's best idea yet. Each of them takes it in turns, racing through the halls during passing periods to hand it off. After a few close calls of nearly being late to class, they coordinate schedules and work out a system of strategic drop points. The alternation means that they all get to take a more active role in creating the story, so that Jon and Adrian, who often just go along with the others' plans, now get a chance to shine.

Things get a lot more detailed, since there's no longer any real time limits to the game. They can tear through weeks worth of cases in a weekend, or spend several days writing out a single day in the Watchmen world. Not to mention it's a lot easier to keep track of intricate storylines on the page, and easier to write out the capturing of nonexistent villains than it is to act it out. Suddenly their imaginary foes have names, backgrounds, and pages of 'files' about them.

They keep up their weekly meetings, but rather than making up ideas on the spot, they're more often than not acting out scenes that have already been written. It reminds Dan of when he was a little kid and would use his action figures to reenact chapters from his favorite books (Laurie, though she will never admit it, did likewise with stuffed animals), only better, because not only are his friends there to play the other parts, but this is a book that _they_ wrote.

It's not long before they fill in the notebook and start another one, agreeing to alternate who gets to keep each one (Adrian takes the first; Walter calls dibs on the second). And so the game rolls on, rather than fading away as they'd all sort of secretly feared, only getting better.


	17. Chapter 16

Walter glances around in what he thinks is a surreptitious way, making sure he's not being watched before sliding the well-worn notebook over to Daniel's desk. Dan presses his lips together to hide his smile; Walter could definitely use some practice at being sneaky. It's endlessly amusing to watch him slip into his character as he writes, so that by the time he flips the book shut, it is with Rorschach's slightly twitchy motions. Dan knows there's a good chance that when he next speaks, it will be in the vigilante's harsh rasp.

He opens the notebook eagerly, flips to the appropriate page and quickly reads over what Walter has just written. Glancing up at the clock, he sees there's only a few minutes left in the class, so he scribbles a brief response before the bell rings.

"See you after school?" he says as they make their way to the door.

"Yes," Rorschach replies, making him chuckle as he heads off to deposit the book behind the designated trash can between his and Jon's sixth-period rooms.

They've all got a lot of homework, so they agree to make that afternoon's meeting a short one, hunting around the woods for clues. They don't find much, but that's okay. Most of their current case is taking place on paper, and what they're doing now could more accurately be described as "hanging out."

Eventually they break, Adrian taking the notebook (technically it's Walter's turn, but Dan is dragging him home to work on the paper that he reluctantly admits he _has_ been putting off, and they're both well aware that the book would only be an irresistibly tempting distraction).

"Hey, Laurie, want to come with us?" Dan asks. She sometimes studies at his house -- they don't have the same work, of course, but they've spent numerous evenings in comfortable quiet, occasionally helping each other out all the same.

She shakes her head with a quick, apologetic smile. "I'm going to Jon's. He's going to help me with my math -- we've got the same teacher different periods, you know. Sorry."

"Oh, uh, it's okay," Dan says, smiling at her a little woodenly. "Maybe next time, huh?" He's not sure why he's so disappointed -- it's not like it's a big deal.

"Yeah, definitely," she says. "Well…bye."

Walter glances between them thoughtfully as Laurie and Jon walk off and Dan gazes after them. After a moment, he speaks up. "Daniel? Should go."

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah." Dan replies, a little embarrassed at having so obviously spaced out. He's slightly distracted the rest of the night -- Walter tries to make up for it by being more talkative than usual, but either Dan does not notice, or, more likely, Walter's idea of 'chatty' is still fairly quiet. They get the paper done, and Dan even manages to prod Walter into finishing his science questions before they go to bed (inevitably giving in and discussing the case for hours, each making mental notes of things to add to the notebook the next day).

Dan picks up the book before fourth period, hiding it beneath his textbook so that he can read over the latest entries while his teacher takes questions on the homework, which he had found fairly easy. He makes a couple of notes in the margins of Adrian's entry. Below that there's a note to Jon about some science project, which he skims over, understanding about half of it. Laurie's filled nearly three pages, mostly adding on to Adrian's investigation notes, with a couple paragraphs at the bottom complaining about how _boring_ home ec is (which might explain the lengthy entry, Dan thinks, grinning to himself). There's also a note in one corner -- _Hey Doc M, thanks for the help_.

His smile slips slightly when he spots Jon's reply -- _No problem SS. I had fun. Get together again after patrol Thurs?_ He reads Jon's entry and writes a bit of his own, knowing that Walter will contribute to it next period. As usual, they spend most of English passing the book back and forth.

By the time spring break comes, their second book is halfway full, though admittedly not all of that is superhero-related. It's only natural, of course, that talk should turn occasionally to their real lives. From the time they started the first notebook (only a few months ago, but it feels like ages, and they all sort of wonder why they hadn't thought of it sooner), there have been personal notes mixed in amongst the case logs (though they always refer to each other by their hero names, ostensibly in case their book is ever found, though none of them bother to consider the fact that even without real names, their identities would be painfully obvious). Now, though, it's about half vigilante team notes, half five kids talking about parents and school and life.

Mostly the personal notes are to the group at large --Laurie complaining about how annoying and _silly_ most girls are (though she continues to hang out with them on occasion, mostly because it keeps her dad happy, and when her dad is happy, he complains less about her going over to Dan's house), or Adrian babbling on endlessly when he's finished some in-class assignment or another long before everyone else. Occasionally they're more specific -- Dan reminding Walter that they're meeting that afternoon to do homework (_no, seriously, __homework__, so give the book to SS, I know you too well_), or Adrian and Jon going on about their latest project (the rest of them skim these and usually don't manage to make much of them except that Adrian and Jon are kind of scary when they put their heads together and could probably take over the world if they wanted to).

There's also a growing number of notes between Jon and Laurie. They're full of smiley faces (once Dan even notices, with an unpleasant jolt, what he's pretty sure is a scribbled-out heart beside one of Laurie's signatures). They're nearly as indecipherable as Jon and Adrian's, but instead of scientific jargon that would probably make the average ninth-grader's head hurt, these are laden with inside jokes and references to activities for which the others were not present. Dan wonders a little bitterly how two people who barely have time to hang out with their friends can manage to spend so much time together. Then he shrugs it off, or tries to, anyway. What business is it of his? What does it matter if Jon and Laurie are spending time together without the rest of them? After all, he and Walter hang out alone all the time.

It still leaves him feeling a bit unsettled, and he can't quite figure out why.

***

Dan is sitting at his desk, poking at his latest model airplane while Walter sprawls on his bed, catching up on the past few pages pf case files. Dan glances over his shoulder to see his friend frowning down at nearly a full page of Laurie's slightly sloppy script.

"That's for Jon, I think," he says, sounding, he hopes, nonchalant and not at all like he'd read the page over three times, trying to figure out why it bugged him so much (wondering why Laurie never wrote _him_ page-long notes; weren't they supposed to be best friends?).

Walter grunts in response. "Ought to keep personal business to themselves, he mutters, rummaging in his bag and coming up with a red felt-tip pen to write as much in the margin.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Dan's mouth, and his first instinct is to agree heartily. Then his better nature catches up to him and he says, "Come on, man, we all do it." Walter rolls his eyes and mutters grudgingly, dropping the pen back into the quagmire of his bag -- but Dan can't help feeling just a tiny bit vindicated.

***

Walter is not exactly sure what's going on with his friends, but he doesn't like it.

He's not stupid. He knows that they're "getting to be that age," as adults put it (complete with slight eye-rolling and small smiles). Just because he himself has little interest in girls or awkward flirting, he knows better than to expect the others feel the same.

Still, it bothers him. The ever-lengthening notes between Jon and Laurie, and the long, sad looks Dan gives the two of them when he thinks no one is looking. Walter is pretty sure he knows where all of this is going, and it doesn't look good.

He thinks back to the days before he met Daniel. Back then he'd had no friends at all -- and he'd been all right with that. If he'd occasionally watched the other kids in their groups at school, if he'd occasionally longed for that -- well, he had learned at a young age to shove the feeling way down inside and make do on his own.

Now, however, he's had two years to learn what it's like having actual friends, and he's not so sure he can go back to being the loner, the freak. Not that he thinks any of them would abandon him, not intentionally, but he's seen how close they've come to drifting apart under the pressure of school, and he doesn't quite trust the addition of budding romance.

He's walking home slowly, turning all of this over and over in his mind. A small part of him wants to tell them. At least Daniel -- Daniel who knows him better, understands him better than anyone else ever has. But no, he decides. No point in bringing it up. Would only make him sound hopelessly needy. Weak. Pathetic. Wouldn't know what to say, anyway.

Reluctantly he trudges the last few steps to his front door. Three pairs of eyes are on him the instant he crosses the threshold. His foster parents are on the couch, looking somber. Seated in a chair nearby is an unfamiliar woman. Her face breaks into a smile and she stands, smoothing back her hair in a nervous gesture.

"Walter," she says, opening her arms to him.

Suddenly, he realizes he has much more important things to worry about than his friends' love lives.


	18. Chapter 17

**Her smile falters as he stands rooted to the spot, staring at her in shock. It only takes her a moment to collect herself, lower her arms, settle back into her seat. "Don't know what I was thinking," she mutters. "Expecting…you don't even know who I am, do you?"**

**He does. He knew somehow the moment he saw her, but he stays quiet while they explain, because he has no idea how he's supposed to respond to this, and he can use all the time he can get to calm his racing mind. **

**Her name is Sylvia. She gave him up at birth because she was, as his foster mother says, with a sour look on her face, "unfit."**

"**But I came back," she says, with a hopeful, tremulous smile. "I got my act together and I came back for you, baby." This time he goes to her, lets her embrace him. It's the only thing he can think to do. She smells of strong perfume, and beneath that, a whiff of something he can't quite place, but that is vaguely familiar. He can tell she's disappointed when he doesn't hug back, but he doesn't even **_**know**_** her, and the word 'mother' means little to him, as he's had nearly a dozen in as many years of life. **

**He is somewhat prepared for the question when it comes. "So, what do you say, baby? Want to come home with me?" He hates her use of the word "baby," wants to remind her that he is twelve years old and has a **_**name**_**, but her eyes are shining hopefully and he guesses he can give her a break. She is his mom, after all, and that's supposed to mean something, even if it really doesn't to him. And she came looking for him. That does mean something. He can count on one hand -- on two fingers, actually -- the number of people who have cared enough to seek him out. **

*******

**Dan doesn't worry until the third day that Walter isn't in school. His absence is noted and speculated about in the notebook, but no one really makes a big deal of it -- it's certainly not the first time he's missed a day, or even two. By fourth period Thursday, however, Dan finds most of his attention on the empty desk beside him, and decides if he hasn't heard from the other boy by the weekend, he's going to go over to his house. It's silly, he's sure, but he can't shake the nagging feeling that something is up. **

**When he arrives at school Friday, however, he spots a shock of red hair across a crowded hall. He's too far away and it's too close to warning bell to try getting his attention, but the sight brings a small smile of relief to his face all the same, and he wanders happily off to class, mentally chiding himself for worrying too much. **

**It's a bit odd when Walter doesn't show up for lunch especially after having been gone so long. When Dan walks into English, though, he's already in his desk. Dan doesn't bother asking where he's been -- some things, he has learned, Walter will either share or not -- just greets him enthusiastically. He can't help noticing his typically quiet friend is even more withdrawn than normal, but shrugs it off, figuring he must have been sick, is probably still getting over it. He drops into his seat, pulling the notebook from his bag. He probably shouldn't hand It over just yet, he knows -- Walter **_**has**_** been absent and should probably be paying attention to the teacher and not their…extracurricular activities, but he does anyway, knowing the other boy will be eager to catch up. **

**Walter takes the book with a small, tight smile. As he flips the pages a bit listlessly, Dan thinks he must really still not be feeling like himself. He takes his time over the book, staring down at it almost sadly. When he finally hands it back near the end of the class, Dan is busy passing his homework forward and packing up his bag. He finally glances down as the bell begins to ring, frowning in confusion when he sees Walter has not written anything in response. He looks up to find his friend already long gone. **

*******

**It's a few more days before Laurie asks the question that's been on all of their minds. **

"**So…what's up with Walter?"**

**Dan doesn't answer for a moment, just twirls the stick he's holding idly. It's halfway into May and already feels like midsummer. The four of them are gathered in the woods, but it's too hot to really do much, so they're sitting in the shadiest patch they can find, hoping Walter will show up. The possibility seems less likely with every passing minute, especially since they've seen little of him all week. He's not exactly **_**avoiding**_** them, but he's not making any effort to be around, and when he is, he's quiet and sullen. He's barely even participating in the team's cases, possibly the most worrying sign of all. **

"**I dunno," Dan sighs at last, resuming tracing patterns in the dirt with his stick. He knows **_**something**_** is wrong, and if anyone should know what it is, it's him, but he doesn't have the slightest idea. **

***** **

**It's another two weeks before they get their answer. They arrive at the treehouse feeling rather listless, despite the coming promise of summer vacation only a few days away. Once again their group seems to be minus one, maybe permanently, and nothing feels quite right. They no longer expect to find Walter waiting for them, and indeed, there is no sign of him -- but there is a sign he has been there. Their notebook sits on his usual seat in Archie (which the five of them barely all fit in anymore; it is still there mostly for display now). **

**Dan flips quickly to the page nearly in the back, where a brief note is scribbled in Walter's usual sloppy print. **

_**Rorschach's Journal, June 10**_

_**Realize I have been absent lately. Will not be attending school next year. Have been removed from foster home. Moved in with birth mother across town. She has selected local school for me to attend next year. **_

_**Wanted to tell you sooner. Did not know how. Apologies. **_

_**.][.**_


	19. Chapter 18

There's a palpable air of excitement that accompanies the last day of school, several hundred pairs of eyes all fixed on clocks, counting down hours, minutes, seconds. Most of the teachers can sense it, know better than to try anything even remotely productive, and allow their classes to disintegrate into mild chaos. Those few who do attempt to hold their students' attention do little more than go over final grades and pass back papers before relenting and allowing time for yearbook signing and general mayhem.

Walter, too, is eager for the day to end. Unlike the rest, though, he's not looking forward to the freedom of summer; he just wants to get these final few hours with, go home, hole up in his room, and not come out until he has to.

He'd considered not coming at all. It wouldn't exactly be the first day he'd missed, and it's not as if anyone particularly cares -- not on the last day, not when he's not even coming back here next year. It was always easy enough to cut school before. Faked illnesses had worked well, his foster parents caring little so long as he didn't do it _too_ often, too busy trying to get everyone out the door and themselves to work on time.

Sylvia, on the other hand, seems to spend most of her time in the apartment after seeing him to school each morning, grumbling all the way about how glad she'll be not to have to hassle with it next year. Walter remains silent. He had thought of asking if he could stay in his school, but he already knows what the answer would be. It's clear after several weeks with her that she cares little for his feelings, and more than once he's come close to asking her why she came looking for him at all.

Lunchtime comes. He eyes the chain-link fence surrounding the school grounds longingly. He's pretty sure he could scale it. Fourth period looms ahead and he can't stand the thought of spending the hour with his eyes firmly fixed to his desk, pretending that he can't feel Dan's sad eyes staring at him. He's being ridiculous, he tells himself. It's three more hours. Stupid to risk getting in trouble now. All he needs is to get caught climbing the fence and have the school call his mother. He steels himself as the bell rings, joins the crowd of dispersing students and strides toward his English class.

Then, at the last second, he ducks into the boys' room. Locking himself into a stall, he pulls his legs up out of sight and settles in for the hour. It's boring, but it's better than facing Daniel. He knows it was weak, telling them the way he did, but he couldn't bring himself to say it, to see the looks on their faces. And now, if he can just get through the rest of the day without running into any of them, he won't have to.

Time passes, could be five minutes or thirty-five, it's hard to say. Walter wishes he had a watch. Or something to do. Finally he fishes a sheet of notebook paper and a pencil from his bag.

_Rorschach's Journal, June 15_

It's stupid, but it's a way to pass the time. He scribbles down all the thoughts that have been chasing themselves around and around his head for the past few weeks, and when the bell rings he doesn't even move. Why bother? It's not like there's any point in going to his last two classes if he can stay here without getting caught. He just keeps on writing, eventually pulling out more paper. Gradually, as his thoughts make their way onto the paper, he feels a bit better, and the entry begins to go in a different direction. Before he knows it, he's falling back into old habits, outlining Rorschach's latest investigation.

The final bell rings, making him jump and look up in surprise. After a moment of confusion at being ripped out of his thoughts, he shakes his head and stands up, wincing as the blood flow returns to his feet, which, unnoticed by him, had been going somewhat numb. He glances down at the papers in his hand, shaking his head. Stupid. Then he shoves them in his bag and hurries out the door. Sylvia is often late picking him up, but he's learned already that he'd better be waiting by the gate whenever she _does_ show up.

When he gets there, however, there's something of a surprise waiting for him. Dan, Laurie, Adrian and Jon are gathered there, all of them scanning the mob of exiting students. Walter's heart sinks as he wonders exactly how he's going to get past them. He's about to turn around and go try that fence after all when Laurie's eyes find his. She doesn't point or say anything to the others, just stares at him, eyes challenging, mouth set in a grim line, arms crossed over her chest.

Walter sighs, knowing he can't walk away now. The crowd around him clears a bit, and he makes his way over to them (keeping a careful eye out for Sylvia all the while). No one speaks for a moment. Finally he drops his eyes to the pavement.

"Sorry," he mutters. "Didn't…couldn't…" The words stick in his throat, so instead he just says, "Will have to do without me now."

"Don't be stupid," Laurie bursts out, making him look up in surprise. "Remember what you told me last summer?"

He does, but that's different, somehow. And… "Don't want you guys to stop just because I'm leaving."

Dan rolls his eyes. "Who said anything about stopping?" He pushes the notebook into Walter's hands -- no, two notebooks. "We finished the second one," he explains. "You had dibs on it, remember? Besides, you need to catch up. "

"But --"

"It's the other side of town, Walter, not the other side of the world," Adrian says, sounding a bit exasperated.

"We'll make it work," Jon agrees firmly.

"So are you coming with us or what?" Laurie asks.

Suddenly Walter feels incredibly dumb. It's outweighed, though, by an immense feeling of relief. "My mom…" he says, gesturing toward the street.

"Fine," Dan says, "then why don't we meet at Eddie's tomorrow?" Walter nods. He'll manage it somehow, even if he has to walk. From the corner of his eye, he sees a cab pull up with Sylvia in it, and bids his friends goodbye, wishing he didn't have to go but still grinning hugely. He walks toward the cab, then, suddenly remembering, runs back, shoving several pieces of crumpled paper into Dan's hands (though the first sheet, the actual journal entry, he keeps for himself) before dashing back to the cab.

Sylvia snaps at him ("Get _in_, damn it, the meter's running, what do you think you're doing?") and he finds he doesn't care in the slightest.


	20. Chapter 19

**If there's one thing to be said in Sylvia's favor, it's that she likes having her apartment to herself, and doesn't seem to care much what her son does with his time, so long as he doesn't come home too late or accompanied by the police. As such, Walter finds himself enjoying his summer a good deal more than he had expected to. It's not difficult figuring out the combination of buses and subway lines that will take him back to his old neighborhood. His meager allowance covers the fare (occasionally supplemented by the others, which he hates but accepts at their insistence). Many nights are spent at Dan's house ("Why don't you just call when you **_**are**_** coming home?" Sylvia snaps one night over the phone, much to his confusion, since every time he is there she seems to be shooing him out the door.)**

**With an almost overwhelming amount of free time on their hands, they spend a lot more time running around the woods, interrogating Eddie's customers (who are a little less charmed by this now that the vigilantes pestering them are no longer adorable children but awkward pre-teens, but a single glance from Eddie lets them know better than to say a word about it), and, a little hesitantly at first, exploring the city. The other four, being (though none of them would admit it) just a bit on the sheltered side, are fairly awed by Walter's suddenly expansive knowledge of the New York public transit system. The first time they take the subway with him, they're all secretly pretty sure they're going to get lost, and are pleasantly amazed to find themselves safely in Washington Square Park, which proves to be a perfect place to continue their investigation. (Walter does not tell them that much of his subway expertise comes from the few times he **_**did**_** get lost and had to find his way home.)**

**Another day they make their way to Nelson's mansion. Walter has met Nelson and Rolf only briefly before and at first he's not quite sure what to make of them. Rolf is so large and so brusque, contrasting sharply with Nelson, who smiles warmly and dotes on them, seeming genuinely pleased to have them there. Something about the two men -- he can't put his finger on what -- makes Walter vaguely uncomfortable, but he warms to them anyway. When Nelson overhears them talking about the Watchmen, his face splits into a boyish grin and he launches into tales of the Minutemen's adventures. Before any of them -- Rolf included -- know it, Captain Metropolis is leading them on their latest mission, which lasts so long that they end up staying for dinner and being escorted home by Nelson's driver. **

**Later, Walter will think back over the day, and what will stick out in his mind more than all the fun they had will be the way Nelson and Rolf, so different at first glance, seem to fit so smoothly together, so that he cannot imagine one without the other, the way that Rolf's forceful personality is somehow muted without being overpowered when he lets Nelson take the lead as Captain Metropolis. Yes, something about the two men unsettles him slightly, but something -- perhaps the **_**same**_** something -- about them fascinates him as well. **

**Several days, too, are spent at Laurie's, and they have one delightful afternoon when Hollis joins them as well, the two older vigilantes taking over the game without meaning to and clearly having so much fun that the younger group largely just sits back and watches them, giggling at their antics. The kids are quick to suggest a meeting of all the Minutemen and the Watchmen, and Sally smiles and says they'll think about it, that it **_**has**_** been awhile since she's seen any of the others. **

"**It would be nice to get together with Nelson and Rolf, wouldn't it?"**

"**Bill and Byron, too," Hollis adds, "I'm sure they'd love to join us."**

"**And Eddie!" Laurie chimes in, grinning. Sally's face falls slightly. **

"**Maybe not Eddie," she says, giving a quick, tense smile and glancing at the clock. "I should get dinner started. Laurie, your dad will be home soon." It's a warning, and they all start gathering their things, preparing to clear out before Larry's arrival. **

"**Hollis?" Laurie asks, frowning. "Why can't Eddie come?" There's more to the question, little things that have been bugging her -- like the way her dad is so against the Watchmen, even though nobody else seems to think it's silly or immature, and other thoughts she can't even quite grasp hold of, let alone put into words. **

**Hollis seems to get the gist of it, though. "Well," he says, "maybe I shouldn't tell you this. But when we were kids, Eddie used to follow us around. He was younger and trying to fit in, and he always had a crush on your mom." Laurie stares in shock. She can't imagine anybody having a crush on her mom, except maybe her dad, but that's different. Hollis just grins and nods at her expression. "Yeah, they even went out a few times in high school. Anyway, Larry -- your dad, that is, he was always a little jealous of Eddie, I think. Never liked him much. It's…kid stuff. Stupid, really. But probably best not to bring it all back up." **

**Laurie raises an eyebrow at him, and he has to stifle a laugh as she looks just like a miniature version of Sally. His expression turns more serious, though, when she says, "There's more, isn't there?" Because there has to be; her dad can't be that unreasonable, can't be that angry with Eddie over a couple of dates.**

**Hollis pauses, then says, "That's not my place to tell you. Heck, I've probably said too much already." He reaches out to ruffle her hair in a gesture she's too old for, making her roll her eyes. "Now come on, let's get out of here before your dad gets home. I hear vigilantes are outlawed around here."**

*******

**The summer winds down, faster than it has any right to, and finally there's only a week left before school starts. They're all a little perplexed one afternoon when Walter departs early, saying he has to catch his first bus home. **

"**You're not staying at my place?" Dan asks, confused. **

**Walter shakes his head. "Sorry. My mom said she wants me home tonight," he lies, and sets off for the bus stop. He's preoccupied the whole way home, nearly missing his stop twice. When he walks in the door, though, it is with his back straight and his face set in an expression of resolve. **

**Sylvia is sitting at the table in her bathrobe, smoking a cigarette and drinking something that, from the smell of it, is probably more bourbon than coffee. She glances up in surprise when he enters.**

"**What're you doing back so early?"**

"**Came to talk to you," he says. **

**Her eyebrows lift a bit higher. "So talk," she says, smoke trailing after her hand as she gestures.**

**Walter takes a breath and tries to remember the words that have been rattling around in his head for days. "I want to stay in my school. Have friends there. I can get there and back on the subway, I already know the route and my allowance will cover the fare." He swallows and adds, trying to make it sound respectful but not weak, "Please."**

**Sylvia cocks her head, staring at him for a moment. Then she shrugs. "No skin off my ass if you want to spend all your money on the subway. I don't want to hear any shit about you missing school 'cause you couldn't get there, though. And you better make sure you're out the door every morning in time to catch that train, 'cause I sure as hell don't have the time or money to take you." **

**Walter's heart leaps, but all he says is, "Fine," with a small nod. He manages to conceal his grin until he turns away to go to his room. **


	21. Chapter 20

_Note: I'm aware there's some slight weirdness between this and the next part, due largely to me writing part 20, waiting forever, not rereading it, then writing part 21. There might have also been some sleep deprivation in there somewhere. XD Fail, self, fail. I'll eventually edit it so that it all flows smoothly, but since that might not happen until the fic is entirely finished, I figure it's better to just post it up a little rough for now. Sorreeeee! XD_

The first of September dawns cold and bleak. Walter knows this because he is up just before dawn, dressing quickly and grabbing his school bag, which is already neatly packed (for what will probably be the last time this year). He pauses outside his mom's bedroom door, considers telling her he's leaving, then decides she would only be mad at him for waking her. She'll figure it out. Instead he wanders out to the kitchen, digs around in the refrigerator until he finds a packet of bologna that's only a couple days out of date. Fixing himself a sandwich, he shoves it into his bag and heads out the door.

He's probably leaving a bit earlier than strictly necessary, but it's better than being late, today in particular. It's the first day of school, though that is a fairly minor point in his mind. No, today he has his own reasons for being early.

The trains run smoothly, and he notes how long it takes, deciding that he can leave the apartment half an hour later in the future and still make it to school with plenty of time. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stifles a yawn as he walks the last few blocks to school. It's pretty much deserted still, only the occasional teacher wandering through the gate, looking just as tired as Walter feels.

He leans against the fence, pulling the hood of his jacket down as low as it will go and letting his head fall forward slightly. It's cold enough to keep him from falling asleep, but his thoughts drift lazily, blurring together at the edges.

Students begin arriving, wandering in a few at a time, most of them looking less than thrilled. Walter perks up a little as the numbers increase, beginning to scan the arrivals.

He hears Laurie's voice a moment before he sees them. "--least we're seventh graders now," she's saying. "It's gonna be weird, though, without -- _Walter_!"

"I know," Dan says, "but --"

"No," Laurie says in exasperation, smacking Dan's arm, then pointing, "_Walter_!"

It was worth missing half an hour of sleep, he decides, to see the expression on Dan's face.

***

Laurie is, at least in part, correct. Being in seventh grade has its advantages -- they know their way around now, for one, and this year's crop of eighth grade bullies are either less intimidating than last year's, or more inclined to ignore them and bother the sixth-graders. The comparison of schedules comes out much more favorably, too -- they each share at least one class with one of the others. It makes passing their notebook quite a bit easier (though secretly, they all sort of miss the drop points, which made it all seem much more exciting and undercover) and also means that more and more missions are co-written with the book being passed back and forth between desks.

They're a little more prepared now to deal with the mounting stacks of homework, and they stake out their lunch table on the first day, lest any new sixth-graders get any ideas about claiming it as their own. Life largely settles back into its typical routine. They try to stick to their weekly meeting, and if more and more, it doesn't happen, it's not that big a deal, really. They've still got their adventures on paper, and they see each other at school, after all.

Walter, oddly enough, is now the one who often can't join them after school -- it's a long trek back to his apartment, only to rush through his homework, fall asleep, wake up early and do it all over again. They all notice that he seems more tired, more easily agitated than usual, but they shrug it off. He's got a lot to deal with, they know, and try to give him a break.


	22. Chapter 21

Days turn to weeks, and soon that feeling from the beginning of the year, sadness at the end of summer and excitement at the new school year's promise, fades into a routine: homework, projects, chores, attempts at clinging to some semblance of a social life. They tear through notebooks faster than ever, which is only to be expected, considering how often now the pages of superhero activity are interspersed with records of everyday life. Seemingly every other page contains hastily-scribbled reading assignments, or messy, half-completed math problems (because much as they try not to, there is always a point when one or another of them reaches into their bag for a piece of scratch paper, only to find that every single sheet of paper they had has magically disappeared), personal notes (_Laurie, can you bring your copy of Lord of the Flies on Tuesday?_), or pleas for Jon to explain the latest biology lab (the replies tend to be long and practically incomprehensible, but they can usually get enough out of them to scrape by). In a few cases there's only rough scraps of paper clinging to the binding, the actual pages having been used for in-class assignments and ripped out.

The Watchmen entries, by contrast, have gotten shorter, more cursory. It's not intentional -- it's just so easy to get sidetracked. Only Walter's contributions are as long as ever, drawing attention to the relative lack of participation by the others, yet at the same time allowing them to slide by, adding on small notes to his copious ones. It means that he's largely taking the lead in the storytelling, while Rorschach does likewise on the actual cases. So all right, they're coasting, letting him do most of the work, but they're all busy, and he loves writing this stuff out anyway, and things are still going on largely as normal.

As such, it takes them awhile to realize anything is wrong.

Sure, they're a little surprised the first time Walter misses an after-school meeting -- after all, he's always been the most into the game -- but of course real life interjects sometimes, as they well know, and it's no big deal. After the third time, however, they grow perplexed. Finally they gang up on him at lunch one day, and when he again mutters that he's 'busy,' press him for details. Finally he shrugs and admits, "Have to take the bus home. Takes two hours. Longer in the evening; they don't run as often."

Dan scoffs. "That's _it_? Stay at my house, man, you know you're always welcome."

Walter's ears go red as his mother's voice echoes in his head, so loud he almost expects the others to hear. _You spend an awful lot of time with that Daniel. What're you two, faggots? Or,_ she'd continued at his sputtered denial, _maybe just you are. Huh? Your little friend know you're gay for him? Ought to hang around with that Laurie girl. At least you might actually get somewhere with her_, at which point he'd bolted to his room, unwilling to listen to this attack on his friends' decency and unable to silence it.

Now he simply mutters, "Too old for sleepovers, Daniel," and, when Dan tries to protest, makes his excuses and departs the table. Definitely too old to be sleeping in the same bed, anyway, he adds only in his head.

None of them really know much about Walter's home life, but that's unsurprising. He's never been much for sharing personal details. From what little they've seen and heard of Sylvia, they gather she's not about to win any mother of the year awards, but she _is_ his mom, and that's got to be better than foster care, right?

Though Dan is surprised at Walter's refusal to stay over, it's the bus comment that really catches his attention, and he finds himself considering for the rest of the day. Two hours. School starts at 7:55, which means Walter must get up well before six in the morning, and get home no earlier than five -- on days when he doesn't have detention for falling asleep in class, or not handing in his homework, or snapping at his teachers. Dan has noticed all of this, but hasn't thought much of it. It's easy enough to ignore; after all, Walter's always been a little irritable, a little prone to losing assignments in the vortex he calls a schoolbag, but suddenly it's all beginning to make a new kind of sense. His friend's constant yawning, his puffy eyes and increasingly surly mood…his swiftly descending grades. Daniel thinks again to the length of Rorschach's notebook entries -- the most recent one nearly five pages long -- and wonders how much time they take up.

He doesn't know how to bring any of this up, doesn't want to embarrass Walter, so instead he goes back to gently prodding the other boy to do his homework, tries without success to get him to start spending time at his house again. Once he even goes so far as to organize Walter's bag, though by the next afternoon it's back to its previous state. Finally one day they're walking out together after final bell. Dan, watching Walter shove the current notebook amongst the rest of his books and debris, blurts out, "You know, if you don't have time for the Watchmen stuff anymore, it's okay. I mean, I know you only have so much time, and if you'd rather spend it on schoolwork or with your mom, I understand.

Walter stops walking and glares at him, and suddenly Dan gets the feeling he has just said the absolute wrong thing. "Don't understand _anything_, Daniel." He yanks the book back out, one end of the spiral binding catching on something, pulling out of shape. "Is all I care about," he says, waving the book angrily in Dan's face. "_You're_ the ones letting it die. Don't want to play anymore, just say so. Don't put it off on me." And he storms off to the bus stop. Dan lets him go, but it takes a very long time for Walter's words to stop replaying in his mind.

The whole way home, Walter berates himself, first for his ridiculously dramatic outburst, then for not being able to say what he really meant to. He wants to confide in Daniel, about how much it _sucks_ living with Sylvia, how he wishes he'd stayed in foster care -- it wasn't great there, either, but at least he'd been close to school, close to his friends, and if his foster parents had never really cared about him, well, it was okay, they weren't _supposed_ to, not like _real_ parents were -- and how he's terrified his friends are drifting away, growing tired of him, or forgetting him in his absence.

When he gets home, he reads over the notebook, savoring each entry, even the off-topic ones and the vaguely sickening, horribly obvious developments between Jon and Laurie. Maybe his mother was right about her, he thinks bitterly, though obviously Ihe's/I not the one getting somewhere -- then he immediately hates himself for the thought, taking it back as fervently as if he'd said it to Laurie's face.

He pulls out a pen and considers for a very long time. The bus ride has given him plenty of time to think about the Big Figure case, in between mentally chastising himself. In the end, though, he scribbles out a brief paragraph before shoving his bag and the notebook to the floor and curling up tightly, fully clothed, on his side. He can take a hint.


	23. Chapter 22

They're all perplexed, Dan most of all, at the sudden tapering off of Walter's notebook entries, and the decreased length when he does write. He shows up for lunch on occasion, but is now perpetually absent at their after-school meetings, which again take on a decidedly lackluster tone. No one wants to admit it, but they almost prefer his absence -- they miss him, but when he's around he's withdrawn at best, icy and snappish at worst. They do their best to draw him into conversation, but he's clearly not interested.

Things have been falling into place in Dan's head. He can see Walter's exhaustion plainly now that he's recognized it for what it is, wonders how he'd ever missed it before. He fervently wishes he could convince the other boy to stay over at his house, even occasionally, but the last time he brought it up Walter had ended up storming off, leaving the others staring at Dan in degrees of exasperation ranging from Jon's mild, taken-aback surprise, to Adrian's upward-rolled eyes, to Laurie's scowl, which nearly audibly proclaimed, "Nice going, idiot."

He wonders how much any of them have guessed about Walter's new life. None of them have been over to his apartment. Walter claims his mother doesn't want people over, eyes flicking away from Dan's in a way that suggests if it's the truth, it isn't the whole truth. He doesn't need to know, not really, not if Walter doesn't want to tell him, but he does wish there was something he could do.

Summer is drawing closer and somehow he feels as if he's running out of time, a clock counting down in his head, though to what, he doesn't know. He should be focusing on school, final projects building up, but instead he finds himself obsessing over Walter, wondering what to do, what to say, that might actually help and not just make him angrier. Without even really knowing he's doing it, he begins to devote more attention to the notebook, trying to fill in the gaps left by Rorschach's sudden absence. His pages are still not as long or detailed as Walter's, but it's more than he's done in awhile. Laurie, he notices, steps it up a bit as well, and though they don't talk about it, he gets the impression she's just as worried about it as he is.

One hot Saturday morning Dan lies to his father (something he generally tries to avoid at all costs), claiming his homework is done and hurrying out the front door before he can be questioned further. He is in fact falling behind, not badly but enough that he feels guilty, especially since he doesn't even know where he's going, only that he needs to get out of the house. Only for awhile, he promises himself, then he'll come back and spend the rest of the day working.

He walks around the block once, debating. The treehouse would only be depressing, and he's not interested in going to Eddie's. The answer comes to him in a blinding flash of the obvious, and he digs around in his pockets, coming up with enough change for the bus ride to Hollis'. It's close enough to walk, but he curls up in the back seat, leaning against the window, and lets his mind drift back to the previous summer when Walter had showed them the entire city through bus windows.

Hollis greets him at the door, just as if he had been expecting him, hands him a root beer and watches him settle in on the couch. He can tell almost immediately that something is wrong, Dan's face giving away more than the boy knows. Whatever's bothering him, he doesn't say anything about it, though he does mutter, looking away, when Hollis asks about school. He doesn't say a word, just raises his eyebrows and lets his mouth fall into a hard line, at which Dan flushes and becomes very interested in a spot on the carpet.

Hollis softens quickly. He can't be mad at Dan, not really. He's a good kid, and clearly his own guilt is enough to push him back onto the right track. A little mild disappointment can't hurt, though. He relents, making Dan promise he won't stay long and will do his homework the moment he gets home.

Unpleasantness dealt with, he asks about the Watchmen, whose activities he keeps up on via Dan and Eddie. He honestly enjoys the tales of their adventures. It reminds him simultaneously of his own childhood and of following a particularly good story in serial form, with the added bonus of having it told with a child's enthusiasm (he figures Eddie counts too, considering he gets just as excited about the stories as Dan does). When his young companion is mum on this subject as well, he begins to feel he has an idea of what's going on.

"You're awfully quiet today, Danny," he says, not wanting to pry but hoping Dan will choose to fill him in. When he only shrugs, nursing his soda, Hollis voices his thoughts. "You know I always like hearing what you kids are up to. Reminds me of my days in the Minutemen."

Dan seems to perk up slightly at that, so he continues. "Did I ever tell you about the time Silk Spectre and I took down Moloch?" Dan shakes his head, and Hollis smiles. He's pretty sure he has, actually, but Dan is always eager to hear stories of the old Minutemen game, so he launches into it again. He goes on for awhile, that story blending into the next until he's telling about one of their missions as a group.

"Hollis?" Dan interrupts, looking thoughtful. "You said the Silhouette -- uh, Ursula… She stopped playing with you guys?"

_Bingo_. They're getting closer to the reason for Dan's melancholy mood, and while he's not exactly eager to tell the whole story, he figures the boy is old enough to know the truth, almost feels as if he _deserves_ to know.

"Well," he says slowly, considering, "not exactly. Ursula… We always had this idea she was different from the rest of us, somehow. No one really cared, at least not at first, but it was there. We were getting a little older, almost into high school. Sally and Larry were starting to…feel each other out, I suppose, though they didn't officially start dating until awhile later." He pauses, not quite sure how to approach this. "Danny, do you know what a lesbian is?"

Dan nods, wide-eyed. He knows about sex, from health class at school and a couple of very tense conversations with his father, and he knows, theoretically, that men can have it with men and women with women, though the idea sort of baffles him. The occasional peeks he's managed at magazines hidden behind black cardboard signs at the liquor store where he sometimes spends his allowance on candy bars and Cokes have done little to enlighten him, though they have piqued a shameful sort of interest.

"Well," Hollis says, "about that time, Ursula told us she thought she might be a lesbian. It took a lot for her to do it, too. These things weren't as accepted back then, you know. They're still not, but back then… Well. We were her best friends, and she confided in us."

Dan nods in fascination. "What happened?"

"We didn't quite know what to make of it at first. It came as a shock, but…I think for the most part, we took it in stride. I can't speak for anyone else, but it never made a bit of difference to me. She was our friend; that was all that mattered. The only one who ever seemed really bothered was Larry."

"Why?" Dan says, mind churning. He tries to imagine how he would feel if one of his friends made such a confession, and can't see that he would care much either.

"I can't say for sure, but… Larry always had a bit of a jealous streak. I don't think he liked the idea of Ursula being around Sally."

Dan's brow furrows. "But Sally's not… I mean, she wasn't…uh, gay."

Hollis gives him a sad smile. "I never said it made sense. But it wasn't long before he was talking about her behind her back, making…disparaging remarks, to put it nicely. Pretty soon he had some of the others going along with it. I don't think any of us particularly agreed with him, but Sally was smitten with him by that point and probably would have gone along with just about anything he wanted. As for the rest of us, well, I can't quite explain it, but it's easy to be influence by your friends at that age. I'm embarrassed to admit I went along with it myself. In the end, we just sort of drifted apart. We never fought, never told her she couldn't be our friend, but we ostracized her in subtle ways, I'm sure, and eventually it got to where we didn't talk to her at all."

Dan remembers what he had thought the very first time Hollis mentioned Ursula. "I can't even imagine not being friends with Laurie or Adrian or Walter."

"I would have said the same thing at your age," Hollis agrees. "To tell you the truth, I can still barely believe we did that. And this may sound silly, but to this day, I regret it. She was our friend, Dan. We should have stood by her."

Dan nods, chewing hard on his lower lip. He has more than ever to think about, but a part of him already feels lighter, as if the answer to their current problems is somewhere in his mind, and he needs only wait for it to come to the surface. "I should probably get home and start on that homework, huh?"

"I think that's a good idea, Danny," Hollis says, smiling. It wasn't a pleasant story for him to tell, but he's pretty sure it was a worthwhile one. He walks Dan to the bus stop and waits with him until he climbs on board, their conversation flowing a little easier. Then he heads home and digs a battered phone book out of a drawer, flipping through to the Zs. Dan may well have figured out something important today, but perhaps he's not the only one who has.

Dan does head straight home and gets through several worksheets and a portion of his history project before he allows his mind to return to what Hollis had told him. He doodles idly in his notebook a bit, telling himself he's taking a short break, but as the lines on the paper begin to solidify into an image, he finds himself with a sudden idea, and within minutes he's pulling his sneakers back on and telling his father he needs to go to the store and get a posterboard for a project. It's true, but when his dad offers to drive him, he declines, instead walking the few blocks to the stationery store. He picks up the board, then lingers in the art-supply aisle. He's spent a fair amount of time here, wishing he could have practically all of the items, though he's not really enough of an artist to warrant the cost. Today, though, he selects a small pad of paper, running his fingers over the first sheet. It's thick and smooth, much nicer that the notebook or copy paper he usually draws on. He picks up a set of markers as well, the cheapest ones on the rack but still many levels above his Crayolas. It costs him nearly all the allowance he has saved up, but he hands over the money with a smile on his face.

It takes him a few days of working in between school and homework (which he works hard to catch up on, driven on by the lethal combination of Hollis' disappointment, his dad's certain ire at a bad report card, and the nagging voice in his own head), days in which Walter is as distant and surly as ever, which, while it still bothers him, makes him feel slightly less hopeless than it has been. In the end, he's fairly pleased with the result.

There's only a couple weeks left of school, and the feeling in Dan and Walter's sixth-period class is one of restless anticipation. Everyone flies when the final bell rings, especially Walter, and Dan hurries after him. "Hey," he says, panting ever so slightly as he catches Walter's arm, "wait up."

"Have to catch my bus, Daniel."

"Just…wait. There'll be another bus." He doesn't want to delay his friend getting home, but… "Please."

Walter stops with a small huff of a sigh, looking at him warily. "What is it?"

Dan's been rehearsing what to say in his head for days, hasn't yet come up with anything he likes, and now forgets all of it, so he takes a breath and just blurts out what comes to mind. "I know…_we _know you have a lot to deal with and you can't be around as much and it's okay and… You're my best friend and we're always gonna be friends. No matter what. You know that, right?"

Eyes downcast, Walter mutters, "I know that." His tone is strangely soft, though, and Dan thinks it may be the first time in weeks, if not months, he's heard him speak without sounding somewhere between wooden and annoyed.

"Okay," he says, feeling his face heat. "I… I just wanted to make sure. I don't know what I'd do if we weren't friends anymore. And…I made you this." Opening his backpack, he carefully pulls out a single sheet of paper. "Made" might be a bit of a stretch, but he couldn't figure out how to actually build it, so instead he's made the drawing as detailed and intricate as he possibly could, practicing with the artists' markers until he'd gotten the shading down perfectly. "It's a grappling gun. I thought Rorschach could use it. And. Uh. Stuff." The stream of words dries up and he hands over the paper.

Walter stares at it for several long moments while Dan shifts his weight from foot to foot, suddenly feeling completely ridiculous. It's stupid and he doesn't know _what_ he was thinking, giving Walter a stupid drawing like it's something worthwhile and --

"Thank you, Daniel," Walter says, looking up at him, surprise in his eyes, emotion in his voice, and Dan blushes hotter despite his relief that his friend seems to genuinely like it. "Should be…very useful, yes."

Dan grins tentatively. "Okay," he says, feeling awkward but suddenly very happy. "Uh, sorry if I made you miss your bus."

"It's all right," Walter says, smiling back at him softly, and it's a wonderful sight. "Will be another bus."

"Okay. Um. See you tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," Walter agrees, and they part ways.

The next day, there is a lengthy notebook entry detailing Rorschach's latest leads, involving a sequence where the grappling gun Nite Owl built for him proves indispensable.


	24. Chapter 23

_Note: Okay, seriously, 's formatting is wonky as all hell. Second try uploading this chapter; if it comes out entirely underlined again…I have no idea why. o_O_

It's practically blasphemy, waking up _early _on the first day of summer, but morning finds them all at the treehouse before the heat of the day has even had a chance to fully kick in. A shared energy seems to crackle through the group, an almost physical feeling of throwing off the weight and worry of the past few months, and it takes a few hours for them to actually get back to the case at hand because they can't resist the simple pleasure of chasing each other around their little clearing with no real agenda in mind, bodies that have been cramped into desks and bound by stress and homework for far too long stretching and warming in the cheerful sunlight. It feels a lot like being little kids again, mindlessly running and giggling, and not a single one of them would argue that that's a bad thing.

Eventually they collapse in the shade and relative cool of the shack, which is becoming just slightly small for all of them, and pass around the Ziploc baggies full of chocolate chip cookies Sally has sent along. Laurie is sort of amazed at the fact that they're made not from a mix or a tube but from scratch. Her mom usually cooks cursory dinners for the family, but she can't remember the last time she saw her actually bake. She's told her a little about the weirdness with Walter and how happy she is that he seems to be back to normal (well, as normal as he ever is, she thinks good-naturedly, and doesn't answer when Dan asks what she's grinning about), and, though they don't often talk about it, she's always had the feeling her mom gets a kick out of the whole Watchmen thing, so maybe she's just happy that things are back to normal and decided to make them a special treat. Actually, Sally has seemed really happy in general lately, and the mood in the house is infectious, even Larry seeming a little less grumpy than usual.

They munch on cookies, chatting idly for awhile, then decide it's only appropriate they go enjoy their newfound freedom at Eddie's, since they haven't had time to hang out with him in what feels like ages. Along the way they pass a couple of little kids with a lemonade stand and Adrian buys them all a cup, even carrying one carefully the rest of the way to the comic shop for Eddie. They stay at the shop well into the evening, until they're finally forced to head home ('bedtimes' may be giving way to 'curfews,' but it all amounts to about the same thing), relaxed and giddy and already planning out the next day's fun. They will later look back on this day as one of the best of their lives; though it's nothing special, really, it seems to exude a feeling of _summer_ so pure and perfect it belongs in a storybook.

The rest of the summer has a lot to live up to, and while it's never quite as good as that first day, it's still wonderful, being back together, back in their element and enjoying every minute of it. It's a rare day when they don't meet up in the woods or the comic shop, and even then, they inevitably show up the next day with a fresh cache of ideas begging to be played out. The writing slows down further, but it's only because they're acting everything out, putting only the pertinent details down on paper so that they can keep track of their missions.

The fourth of July rolls around, and it's not really a big deal for any of them, but the smell of barbecue seems to linger in the air and it's hard not to pick up on some of the excitement of the day. Only Laurie's a little distracted, Sally having halted her at the door that morning, looking serious. "Can you bring your friends by for awhile tonight? I'd like to talk to them."

"O…kay," Laurie had said, brow furrowing in confusion. "Why?"

"Because I said so," is the reply, and though Sally hadn't seemed _angry_ exactly, Laurie can't help but be a little nervous, unsure what this is about. The others agree readily, though. None of them have plans -- Dan's dad occasionally sets off a few fireworks out in front of the house, but that's about it for celebration.

They arrive at Laurie's house with the sun setting behind them, tired and happy and, in Laurie and Walter's case, a little apprehensive -- the former because she still has no idea what's going on, the latter because it's his nature to be somewhat apprehensive, especially around adults he doesn't know all that well. Sure, he's hung out at Laurie's a handful of times, but this is not the original Silk Spectre working a case with them, this is Laurie's mother wanting to 'talk to them.'

Or so they think until they walk into the living room to find not only Silk Spectre but Night Owl, Captain Metropolis, Hooded Justice, Mothman, Dollar Bill, the Comedian, and…well, none of them actually knows the woman leaning against the far doorway, but Dan's face splits into a grin at the sight of her, and Hollis winks at him, confirming his suspicions.

"Mom…?" Laurie says, starting to smile. Sally grins back at her, the two of them looking practically identical for a moment.

"Well, your father's working late tonight, and we _have_ been talking about having a get-together…" It's not quite clear whether she trails off or is _cut_ off as Laurie nearly flattens her in a hug.

There's a quick round of phone calls home, then they all settle in for hors d'oeuvres -- obviously purchased and reheated this time, but no one cares the least bit, everyone too busy chatting and catching up, the kids mingling happily with the adults they don't see often and pestering Ursula, who seems only too happy to be pestered.

Sally's just announcing that dinner is almost ready when there's a knock at the door. They all look up with interest as another strange woman enters, glancing around with a small, nervous smile. Ursula stands smoothly from her position on the sofa and walks to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and introducing her girlfriend, Dawn, to the now-silent room, her tone almost challenging.

The silence stretches on for a moment more, teetering on the edge of becoming awkward, and then it's as if everyone is speaking at once, welcoming Dawn as if she, too, is an old friend, Sally pressing a drink into her hand, Bill jumping up to offer her his seat, Laurie practically bouncing up and down, eyes shining with excitement as she bombards her with questions.

Dan catches Hollis' eye and grins widely, getting a sly smile in return. It's an incredibly odd feeling, being so very proud of someone he thinks of practically as a father.

Dinner lasts awhile, all of them so busy talking they all but forget to eat, and then there are fireworks, little ones bought from the stand on the corner, but beautiful all the same, brilliant sparks shooting into the night. They linger even after the last of them have burned out to embers in the street, and the kids can't help but be amused as the adults all but drag their feet, Minutemen doing a near-perfect impression of the Watchmen group heading home after a long, but never long enough, day in the woods.

Finally, they all do clear out, no one caring to be there when Larry comes home. Promises abound to do a better job of keeping in touch, and everyone trades numbers with Ursula and Dawn, agreeing with complete sincerity that they should get together again soon. The boys pair off, Adrian and Jon heading one way, Walter and Dan the other. It's the first night Walter will spend at Dan's practically all year, Dan having talked him into it with the excuse of not wanting him to take the bus so late. When Walter tries to argue, Dan simply says, "Fine, then I'll go with you and take the bus back myself," leaving him with little other option -- he doesn't mind riding home by himself, but refuses to let the other boy come back from his neighborhood alone at this hour. He does, however, insist on sleeping on the floor, which Dan finds weird but cannot talk him out of.

The only downside of the fourth is the way the days seem to fly by after that. Somehow the holiday makes them more aware of the passage of time, and school looms closer every day. Adrian has talked Jon into partnering with him on yet another summer project-- Jon admits to the others one day that he's not terribly interested, really, but doesn't mind helping, since Adrian asked and he _is_ probably one of the few people in their grade that can actually keep up with him intellectually. (It's almost impressive how he says this with no conceit, only plain honesty.) The two of them begin to buckle down, rarely missing a day of play but occasionally wandering off early, or getting into discussing their work, leaving the others staring at them a little blankly until someone clears their throat (or, in Laurie's case, says something like "Would you two _shut up_, or at least speak English?"), which, no matter how many times it happens, makes them jump and look up in amusingly wide-eyed surprise, as if they've forgotten the other three are there.

Of course, Dan can't help but notice that Laurie's getting a little less amused each time, and he's pretty sure he knows why. He's also noticed the way Laurie looks at Jon, how _much_ she looks at him, for that matter. The way she's a little more open to playing the helpless victim when he's the one doing the rescuing. He has a good idea where this is going and it makes something in his chest tighten unpleasantly. He tells himself it's nothing. Laurie's his best friend, and Jon's close to it. Why should he care if they're flirting? The way the word sounds in his head, as though it describes something incredibly distasteful, indicates that perhaps he does care, more than he's willing to admit to himself.

As it turns out, though, it's more like _Laurie's_ flirting, and Jon is not paying the least bit of attention. He's as oblivious to her increased pouting as he is to her attempts to get close to him, and she seems simultaneously sad, annoyed, and simply baffled that her 'feminine charm,' as her mother would say, is completely ineffective. Dan can't help but smirk inwardly just a little, anymore than he can help immediately feeling bad for it, the conflicting emotions leaving him totally confused.

Finally one afternoon, Laurie's trying to talk Jon, who is hunched over a page of notes Adrian has brought along and, if he notices her at all, gives no sign of it. Dan and Walter are lingering off to the side. Walter's thoughts on this situation my be more plainly written on his face than Dan's, but run along similar lines, the only real difference being that he's mostly just irritated, whereas Dan can't help wondering what exactly Laurie sees in a guy who'd rather pore over ridiculously complicated scientific equations than even _look_ at her.

Finally, she gives up, announcing loudly that she's going home, and storms off. Jon and Adrian look up at last, to see the other two boys watching them in exasperation from where they'd slumped against a tree (the same tree Laurie had climbed the first time they played Watchmen, Dan thinks idly) upon realizing this conversation was going to take awhile. Laurie is already a disappearing figure in the distance.

"Oh," Jon says, blinking in the sort of mild surprise that is typical of him. (Have they ever seen him express an actual, real emotion? Dan wonders, then immediately feels bad for it.) "Well…I suppose we should go, too, then." He waves the page vaguely by way of explanation. Adrian agrees and begins to gather his things as Walter crosses his arms and glares up at the branches above, attempting to direct his annoyance at them rather than his friends.

Dan's not quite sure why he does it. He just keeps thinking back to the conversation he had with Hollis not so long ago. Keeps thinking about friendship, about supporting your friends, about wanting them to be happy, and the next thing he knows, he's pulling Jon aside.

"What do you think of Laurie?" he blurts out.

Jon stares at him, considering, tilting his head ever so slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Dan feels incredibly childish, and this time, it's not a good thing. Still, it apparently needs to be said, because Jon is either oblivious or intentionally ignoring Laurie, and he really hopes it's the former because he may never forgive the boy if he's doing this intentionally. So he forces himself to say the words. "She likes you, you know."

Jon looks at him for a moment, and Dan thinks he's going to say something like _of course she does; we're friends_, but then his eyes widen a bit and he says, "Oh. Really?"

"Really," Dan confirms, and if Jon notices the tone of his voice, or the resigned look on his face, he doesn't say anything.

"That's…interesting. Thank you for telling me, Dan," he says with a close-lipped smile. By the time Dan has stopped gaping at this reaction (_Interesting? That's _it_?_), Jon and Adrian are saying their goodbyes and walking off.

Dan sighs and walks back over to where Walter is still sitting, thinking maybe they can play on their own, or maybe go find something else to do, as it's still early. He's barely opened his mouth, though, when Walter asks, "What did you do that for?"

Dan shrugs. He hadn't meant to be overheard. "It's true, isn't it?"

Walter stares back at him, expression nearly as unreadable as Jon's for a long moment. "You like her too." It doesn't sound much like a question, so Dan doesn't answer, just stares off into the distance.

"So?" he finally says. "She likes Jon, not me. There's nothing I can do about it, and I'd rather see them happy than watch him ignore her." He's not entirely sure if that's true, but gets the impression he's going to find out soon enough. "You know, I think I'm going to head home too." Suddenly, he doesn't feel much like playing. Grabbing his bag from inside the treehouse, he walks off, leaving the other boy looking after him with a mixture of sadness, pity and respect.

Walter sits there for quite awhile, thinking things over. He knows that his friends wouldn't abandon him (and if on occasion a little voice in the back of his head says otherwise, he locks himself in his room and stares at the drawing of the grappling gun until it shuts up), but there are other ways of being left out. And watching Dan walk away, he finds that this one hits a little closer to home than most.


End file.
